Photo of the Week – February 23, 2018

Before I start this post, here is an important disclaimer.  I am not someone you should take advice from regarding aphids.  I don’t know much about the life cycle of aphids, I don’t know much about their potential to cause damage to crops or other plants, and I don’t know anything about whether or not you should control aphids in your garden/farm/prairie.  Ok?  Ok.

Aphids on whorled milkweed in our yard.

I think aphids are among the most interesting looking creatures in prairies.  I’ve also found them very tricky to photograph.  First, of course, they’re stinking small, which adds a degree of difficulty.  Second, they usually appear in big herds (which I assume is the proper term for a large number of aphids – please don’t tell me otherwise), and it’s hard to decide where to focus.  Regardless, I keep trying to photograph them because they’re just awfully cute.  One of these days maybe I’ll get an image I’m actually satisfied with.

Aphids on stiff goldenrod at The Nature Conservancy’s Bluestem Prairie, Minnesota.

The milkweed plants in our backyard prairie garden often have pretty big herds of aphids roaming around them, especially by late summer.  Maybe I should be upset or worried about that, but I’m just not.  I’m not trying to make money from those milkweed plants, and I’m not hoping to eat them.  Sure, I’d be pleased if monarchs laid their eggs on them, but I have the plants mainly because I enjoy looking at them, and I enjoy seeing what kinds of little creatures I can find on and around them.

I hear that some kinds of aphids can be really problematic on some kinds of garden and farm crops, and I don’t doubt that.  I harbor no ill feelings toward people trying to control the population of aphids on crops.  However, in the prairies I work with, and in our family’s prairie garden, aphids are welcome.  I enjoy watching ants farming aphids, I like the different colors of aphids I find, and I like the fun little spikes coming out of their butts.

A particularly nice aphid herd on butterfly milkweed in my prairie garden.

If you’re waiting for some kind of profound or pithy statement on the ecological value or impact of aphids, you’re not going to get it from me.  I just like aphids, and as I was trying to figure out what image or images to use for this Photo of the Week post, I stumbled across a few recent shots of aphids.  Did I mention how cute they are?

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Posted in Prairie Insects, Prairie Natural History, Prairie Photography | Tagged | 8 Comments

Measuring Our Influence as Conservation Scientists

I am a conservation scientist.  Like any other scientist, I develop and test hypotheses, trying to figure out how the world works.  Once I learn something, I publish my results in academic journals where other scientists can evaluate and build upon what I’ve learned.  Because I’m a conservation scientist, however, I also need make sure the people who directly impact prairie conservation (ranchers, land managers, policy makers, etc.) get my information and use it to improve the way grasslands are managed and restored.  If I fail to influence the actions of others in positive ways, I fail as a conservation scientist.

It doesn’t matter how much we learn about employing prescribed fire effectively if we’re not able to help others use the lessons we learn.

In science, keen observational skills and creativity often spark innovations, but rigorous collection of data is required to see whether a great idea actually makes sense or not.  While I’ve had some good ideas, I’ve also come up with plenty of grassland management and restoration strategies that turned out to be duds.  In each case, I learned a little more about prairie ecology and our land stewardship improved as a result.

I’m proud of the work I’ve done over the years to develop new and better ways of restoring and managing prairies.  I know those strategies are effective because I’ve spent a tremendous amount of time testing them, through both observation and rigorous data collection.  My computer is full of spreadsheets and graphs showing how prairie species and communities respond to various treatments.

I’m also proud of the work I’ve done to share what we’ve learned with others, but until recently, I’ve done very little to evaluate the effectiveness of that work.  I’m not alone – most of my colleagues in the world of conservation science do a great job of measuring the natural world and its responses to human activities, but do very little to evaluate whether their work is actually influencing conservation.  It’s fairly ridiculous when you think about it.  We would never think of devoting ourselves to a new invasive species control technique without testing its effectiveness, but for some reason we’re satisfied to rely on blind optimism that our outreach strategies are changing the world.

Come on, folks!  We’re scientists!  We love data, and we’re good at developing and testing ideas.  Why do we apply that passion and aptitude to only part of our work?  Why aren’t we testing whether our ideas are reaching the intended audience and influencing on-the-ground conservation work?  How can we adjust and improve our outreach strategies if we don’t have any data to work from?

To be fair, measuring outreach impacts requires a very different kind of scientific approach than most of us are comfortable with.  Instead of counting plants or observing behavior of birds, bees or bison, we have to assess the attitudes, motivations, and actions of people. Many of us took our career paths because we prefer the company of birds, bees and bison to people, but that doesn’t give us leave to just ignore people altogether – especially when the success or failure of our work hinges upon their actions.

Fortunately, we don’t have to work alone.  There are lots of scientists who are already good at studying people, and many of them are happy to work with us.  I’ve had very enthusiastic responses from those I’ve asked advice from, and their input has been very helpful.

We should probably take some of the energy we spend studying animals and put it towards studying the way people respond to our outreach efforts.

Whether you’re a scientist who actively shares your results with your target audience, or someone who relies on others to translate and transmit that information, there are some basic questions we should all be trying to address.  This is far from a comprehensive list, but it’s a start.

Defining Audience and Message

What lessons and messages from my work are most important?

Who is the audience for those?

What messengers/media will best reach the audiences?

What are the current attitudes/actions of my audience?  What are the main drivers of those those attitudes and actions?

Who are the credible voices my audience looks to for guidance?

How can I reach those credible voices?

Evaluating Success

Are my messages reaching my target audience?

How many people in that audience am I reaching?

Are my messages changing attitudes and/or actions?

At what scale, and to what degree am I making a difference?

Which messages, messengers, and media are most effective for reaching each of my audiences?

Many of us host field days, at which we can share what we’re learning with others.  How many of us are assessing the effectiveness of those field days and other outreach strategies?

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about audiences and messages, and it’s really helped me focus both my research and outreach more effectively.  Recently, I’ve also started trying to answer some of the questions in the above “Evaluating Success” category.  I’m making some progress, but I need to do much more.

I can tell you how many presentations I’ve given over the last two years (40) and how many people were in those audiences (3,447).  I’ve also been keeping track of calls and emails asking for advice on prairie restoration and management.  Unfortunately, while I have a lot of numbers, I can’t easily translate them into acres of improved management or enhanced habitat quality.

I have, however, made at least some progress toward measuring conservation impact on the ground.  Much of that success came from survey work by one of our first Hubbard Fellows, Eliza Perry.  Eliza conducted interviews with some land managers and private lands biologists who had attended field days at our Platte River Prairies.  Among her many findings were that almost all respondents said what they learned from us had influenced their work, and they conservatively estimated that over 330,000 acres of land had been restored or managed differently because of that influence.  Beyond that, Eliza was able to identify key factors that led to our success and suggest ways to improve our effectiveness.

In addition, Eliza surveyed readers of The Prairie Ecologist Blog and I conducted a follow-up survey three years later.  Those surveys helped quantify the demographics of readers (e.g., about 2/3 of respondents have direct influence on prairie management).  The surveys also measured the degree of influence the blog has on readers’ understanding of prairies and approach to managing or restoring prairies (when applicable).  We even got a rough estimate of the number of acres on which management had been influenced by the blog (over 300,000).

Being able to quantify outreach impact, even when the numbers are fuzzy and incomplete, has been really helpful.  It helps me justify my job, for one thing, and assures both me and my supervisor that the time I spend writing, giving presentations, and consulting with others has value.  Most importantly, it helps me assess what is and isn’t working and adjust accordingly.

While it’s still not fully within my comfort zone, I’m trying hard to make sure I’m measuring the effectiveness of our outreach efforts, just as I do our prairie management and restoration work.  I would love to hear from people who are trying to do the same thing, especially if you’ve found effective evaluation strategies.  As more of us focus on measuring the success of our outreach work, we’ll be able to learn from each other and establish some common metrics.  Hopefully, we’ll also become more effective at translating what we’re learning into large scale and meaningful conservation impact!

Posted in General, Prairie Management, Prairie Restoration/Reconstruction | Tagged , , , , , | 12 Comments

Photo of the Week – February 16, 2018

Long-time readers of this blog know that I occasionally ask readers to tell me which of two similar photos they like best.  Usually, I don’t really have a favorite, and am struggling to decide which of two nearly identical compositions is better.  Or if I do have a favorite, I don’t say so, in order to not bias the results.

In this case, I have a clear favorite, but no one around here seems to agree with me, so I’m turning to you to prove that I’m right.  Don’t let me down…

Here are the two photos.  Both show a tiny backlit feather atop a prairie plant at Lincoln Creek Prairie here in Aurora.  The photos were taken last month.  That last part is completely immaterial to the choice, but I mention it because my word count on this post seems a little low otherwise.

Photo number 1.

Photo number 2.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with both images.  But the second one is better, right?  Sure, less of it is tack sharp, but it’s more graceful for its softness, and the way the feather leans with the breeze is more attractive than the more upright feather in photo number one.  Right??

If you have a strong opinion, you can vote here.

Thanks for your help on this.  I will adhere to the results of the poll, no matter which way they come back.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged | 22 Comments

Save the Date: 2018 Grassland Restoration Network Workshop

If you’re involved in conducting or studying grassland restoration, especially restoration aimed at achieving robust conservation objectives, you may be interested in attending the next Grassland Restoration Network workshop.  If you’re not familiar with these workshops, you can look for previous posts on this blog or visit the GRN website to learn more.

More information will be coming out soon, but here is the flyer for this year’s workshop in Illinois.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Seeds of Promise

It’s hard to describe the varied emotions involved in cleaning and mixing big piles of prairie seed.  There is incredible optimism embedded in those tiny packages.  After all, each seed has the potential to become a plant; maybe even the first of an entire colony of plants.  On the other hand, most of them will fail to produce anything other than a little food for some animal or microbe.

Alex mixes up a big pile of seed with a grain scoop.  Amber is helping too, but hidden behind a cloud of dust.

Yesterday was seed mixing day at our Platte River Prairies.  We dumped bags and buckets of harvested seed into piles to be mixed and taken out to planting sites.  In recent years, we’ve shifted our seed harvest focus; instead of aiming for the highest possible diversity of prairie species (150-200) to convert crop fields into prairie habitat, we’re now focusing on 30-40 wildflower species that are largely missing from some of our more degraded native prairies.  Those degraded prairies had years of of chronic overgrazing and/or broadcast herbicide use before we obtained them, and haven’t really increased much in plant diversity, despite over 20 years of the best management we could give them.  By increasing the number of plant species in those prairies via overseeding, we hope to increase the quality of pollinator and wildlife habitat, as well as the overall ecological resilience of the prairie community.

We process many of our seeds by running them through a heavy steel fan blade that used to be part of a riding lawn mower.  It’s a quick and effective way of breaking seeds out of pods and off of stems.

To be clear, when I say “we”, I’m mostly talking about the Platte River Prairies staff and volunteers who are actually doing the work these days.  For many happy years harvesting seed, but that torch has now been largely passed to others.  I still harvest a modest amount of seed on my own time, mostly during evenings and weekends, for use at our family prairie, but I’m just an advisor for the bulk of the restoration work going on at the Platte River Prairies.  Regardless, it was immensely gratifying to help out yesterday.  It felt great to run those seeds through my fingers and inhale a little seed dust into my lungs (though we wear masks to minimize the dust inhalation).

Alex dumps a bag of seed onto the pile.

While I like thinking about each seed as a potential plant, I also recognize how few of them will actually make it that far.  Even in cropfield restoration work, when we’re broadcasting seeds onto bare soil with no preestablished competition from other plants, only a small percentage of seeds really end up as plants.  Some are eaten by animals before they get a chance to germinate.  Others don’t land in a place where they get the light and moisture they need.  Still others germinate, but are then outcompeted by neighboring plants, eaten by something, or don’t get rain at the right time to sustain them.

When we’re overseeding an existing prairie, the number of planted seeds that turn into plants is far lower still.  We burn ahead of time to create bare soil, and graze to reduce competition, but there are still very few spots where a seed can land and have a good chance to thrive.  That means that the vast majority of those wonderful little seeds of promise just die.  Though, as we discussed yesterday while we worked, even the ones that die are feeding something – birds, mammals, insects, fungi, etc. – so it’s not that they’re really wasted.  It’s just that we didn’t really spend all that time harvesting seeds just to feed fungi.

Instead of focusing on how many of those seeds will become fungus fodder, though, I’d prefer to think about the good that will come from those that survive.  By harvesting and broadcasting those seeds, we’re transforming prairies with very few summer wildflowers into prairies with enough floristic diversity that they will support a more robust pollinator population and provide better habitat structure to a number of wildlife species.  Even if one tenth of one percent of the seeds we plant germinate, we’ll be making a big difference.

This overseeded prairie is not yet where we’d like it to be in terms of plant diversity, but it’s far better off than before it had even the number of flowers shown here.  Hopefully, now that some of these wildflowers are established, they’ll be able to spread on their own as we provide helpful management.

Soon, we’ll be releasing those seeds into the wild to take their chances in the world.  Most of our planting these days is done by machine, which helps us cover a lot of ground quickly, with fairly even distribution of seeds.  That’s all well and good, but I sure get a lot of joy from hand-tossing seeds at our family prairie.  Not only can I aim the seeds for areas I think (though I’m totally guessing) they might survive best, I can also give them a little good luck wish as they leave my hand.  Later in the season, when I return to look for seedlings, I can congratulate both the seed and myself on our success whenever I find a new plant.  With enough of those successes, we’ll slowly rebuild the diversity and resilience that will carry these prairies well into the future.

Alex, Amber, and a big ol’ pile of potential prairie plants.

Posted in Prairie Restoration/Reconstruction | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Photo of the Week – February 8, 2018

Some aquatic insects can survive being encased in ice – water boatmen, for example, or dragonfly larvae.  But what happens if they are frozen near the surface of a pond and the ice around them melts (or sublimates), leaving them exposed to the air when they thaw out?  This is what I was wondering last weekend, as I poked around the icy wetland at our family prairie.

A frozen dragonfly larva in the wetland of our family prairie.

As I wandered around our wetland, I found several dragonfly larvae and a couple other aquatic insects frozen at or near the surface of the ice.  I’m still trying to puzzle out how they got there.  My best guess is that they must have been swimming near the surface as the water around them neared its freezing point.  Maybe they got cold enough they couldn’t swim back down before the water around them froze?  Regardless, there they were, right at the surface.  In some cases, they were partially exposed to the air as the ice was melting and/or sublimating from around them.

Another dragonfly larva – this one was upside down when it froze.

Dragonfly larvae breathe through gills, which I assume means they can’t survive for long out of water.  They can apparently survive being frozen, at least for a while, but I assume they only survive if they thaw out underwater where they can breathe.  If they thaw out on top of a frozen pond, that seems like a really bad outcome…  If so, the larvae I was seeing were either already dead or doomed to be so.

Gusts of wind were blowing snow across this partially exposed dragonfly larva on the surface of the ice.

I’m still not sure why the larvae would have been swimming near the water’s surface as it froze, or if that’s what actually happened.  It’s not an isolated incident – I find insects near the frozen surface of wetlands and ponds pretty frequently.  Anyone have a great explanation for what’s happening?

Posted in Prairie Insects, Prairie Photography | Tagged , , , | 17 Comments

Diversity, Redundancy, and Resilience

Grasslands face a long list of challenges.  In many regions, habitat loss and fragmentation top that list, leaving prairies to struggle for survival as tiny isolated patches of habitat.  In addition, invasive plants and animals keep finding new footholds within both fragmented and unfragmented prairies.  Many of those invaders are aided by nutrient pollution – increasing levels of nitrogen, for example, which help species like reed canarygrass and smooth brome monopolize formerly diverse plant communities.  Most of all, the climate continues to flail crazily about, ratcheting up the temperature and tossing out more and more extreme weather events.

How can grasslands possibly survive all of that?

I’m actually pretty optimistic about the future of prairies.  Prairies are inherently resilient, and if we do our jobs as land managers and supporters of conservation, we can help ensure their continued resilience and survival.  Resilience in prairies and other ecosystems is the capacity to absorb and adapt to whatever challenges are thrown at them, while sustaining their essential functions and processes.  That resilience is built largely upon two pillars: biological diversity and the size/connectivity of the habitats that biological diversity depends upon.

Plant diversity is a key component of ecological resilience, along with the other biological diversity associated with it.  Taberville Prairie, Missouri.

We’ve severely compromised the “habitat size/connectivity” pillar in many regions of North America, but even in little prairie fragments, there is an incredible diversity of organisms, providing the countless services needed to sustain life and productivity.  In a healthy and diverse prairie, not only are all the bases covered, there is considerable redundancy built in to the system because of the number of different species present.  If one plant, animal, or microbe is unable to do its job because of drought, fire, predation or disease, another can step up and fill the role. Diversity provides redundancy, and redundancy helps ensure that prairie systems stay healthy and productive, regardless of circumstances.

It’s not hard to find examples of this kind of built-in redundancy in prairies.  In fact, you can find it within some very recognizable groups of species.  Let’s start with sunflowers.

While most people know what a sunflower looks like, you might not realize how many different kinds there are.  Here in Nebraska, we have at least nine different sunflower species, plus a lot of other flower species that look and act much like sunflowers.  Two of our official sunflowers are annuals, often classified as weeds because of their ability to quickly colonize areas of bare or disturbed soil.  The other seven species are long-lived perennials, each with its own set of preferred habitat conditions.

Plains sunflower, an annual, is a rapid colonizer of exposed in sandy prairies around Nebraska. The Nature Conservancy’s Niobrara Valley Preserve.

All sunflowers are tremendously important providers of food and shelter to wildlife and invertebrates.  There’s a reason sunflower seeds are so prevalent in bird feeders – they pack an enormous amount of nutrition into a little package.  Because of that, a wide array of both vertebrate and invertebrate animals feed eagerly on sunflower seeds when they can find them.  Sunflowers also produce an abundance of pollen and nectar, and make it very accessible to pollinators and many other creatures by laying it out on a big open platter.  It’s rare to find a sunflower in full bloom that doesn’t have at least one little creature feeding on its nectar, pollen, or both.  Grazing animals can get a lot from sunflowers as well; the forage quality of sunflowers is very high, especially before they bloom.

During or after droughts, intensive grazing bouts, fires or other events that leave bare soil exposed, annual sunflowers thrive, and they can provide abundant resources at a time when many other plant species can’t.  We see this often in the Nebraska Sandhills, where plains sunflower (Helianthus petiolaris) turns the hills yellow during the summer after a spring fire or the year after a big drought.  Plains sunflower isn’t the only plant that flourishes under those conditions, but its presence in plant communities is a great example of the kind of built in redundancy that helps ensure there are plants for animals to eat, even when many normally-abundant prairie plants are scarce or weakened.

Nebraska’s perennial sunflowers span a wide range of habitats, from wet to dry and sunny to shady.  You can find a sunflower in just about any habitat type in Nebraska.  That’s another great example of built-in redundancy, and a reason for optimism about the future.  As climate change alters the growing conditions across much of Nebraska, it seems unlikely that any habitat will change so dramatically that it will become devoid of sunflowers.  Instead we’ll probably see changes in the relative abundance of each species from place to place.  In addition, remember that what we call a sunflower is a fairly arbitrary categorization; there are lots of other wildflowers that provide very similar resources/services, including plants like rosinweed (Silphium integrifolium), false sunflower (Heliopsis helianthoides), sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale), and many more.  Those sunflowerish plants also span a wide range of habitat preferences and growth strategies, making it likely that some of them will be blooming abundantly every year, no matter what drought, fire, or grazing conditions are thrown at them.

An illustration of the general habitat preferences of several perennial sunflowers found in Nebraska.  The variety among habitats used by these species makes it likely that some kind of perennial sunflower will persist in most locations, regardless of how climate and disturbance patterns change over time.

Milkweeds are another group of organisms that demonstrate the diversity and redundancy in prairie ecosystems.  There are 17 milkweed species here in Nebraska, along with several other related species (like dogbane) that produce the same kind of sticky white latex.  While that latex is toxic to most creatures, a number of invertebrates have figured out how to feed on milkweed plants without suffering harmful effects.  Many have actually turned the toxin into an advantage by ingesting the substance and making themselves toxic to potential predators.  The most famous of these critters, of course, is the monarch butterfly, which uses milkweeds as larval hosts.

A selection of milkweed species found in Nebraska, demonstrating the variety in flower colors and shapes among the group.

When you picture a monarch caterpillar on a milkweed plant, you probably envision a tall plant with a big pink flower.  In reality, monarchs can use many (maybe all?) milkweed species as larval hosts.  Because each species of milkweed has its own unique set of preferred habitat and growing conditions, the diversity of milkweed species in Nebraska should help monarchs find a place to lay eggs regardless of weather, disease outbreaks, or other events.

The spring of 2017 provided a compelling example of this.  In most years, monarchs overwintering in Mexico fly into the southern United States and lay eggs on milkweed plants there.  The subsequent generation than flies northward into Nebraska and other  nearby states.  For some reason, many monarchs broke from that pattern in 2017, and arrived in Nebraska much earlier than normal.  This caused a great deal of concern because the milkweed most commonly used for egg laying – common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) wasn’t up yet, and just as it started emerging, a freeze knocked it back down.  Fortunately, common milkweed wasn’t the only option available to monarchs.  Whorled milkweed (Asclepias verticillata) is also fairly common, starts growing earlier in the year than common milkweed, and is more resistant to cold weather.  Monarchs seemed happy to lay their eggs on the skinny leaves of whorled milkweed, and those of us worried about monarchs breathed a sigh of relief.  Once again, diversity created redundancy, and monarchs found habitat for their babies, even though they arrived well ahead of schedule.

A monarch egg and caterpillar on whorled milkweed earlier this spring (April 27, 2017) in Nebraska.

A broader example of redundancy and resilience in prairies includes the interdependence between bees and plants.  If you’ve followed this blog for long, you’re surely aware that there are thousands of bee species in North America, and potentially 80-100 or more species in a single prairie.  Most of those bees can feed on the pollen and nectar from many kinds of wildflowers, though some are restricted by their size or tongue length from accessing certain species. Because most plants only bloom for a few weeks, and most bees need considerably longer than that to successfully raise a family, bees require more than one kind of wildflower near their nest.  In fact, in order to support a broad diversity of bee species, a prairie needs an equally diverse set of wildflower species.  That way, a bee can find sufficient food throughout the growing season, even if drought, grazing, or other events keep some plant species from blooming in a particular year.

On the flip side, most wildflowers rely on the diversity of bees and other pollinators to ensure successful pollination.  While some insect-pollinated plants are very selective about who they let in, most rely on the availability of many potential pollinators.  If some species of bees are suffering from a disease, or have a weather-related population crash, it’s awfully nice to know that there are other bees (along with butterflies, moths, wasps, and other insects) that will still be able to transfer pollen from one flower to another.  A diverse pollinator community relies on a diverse wildflower community, and vice versa.  Diversity, redundancy, and resilience.  No matter what happens, flowers make fruits and seeds – which, by the way, is pretty important all the various creatures that rely on those fruits and seeds for food.

Bees rely on plant diversity to ensure a consistent supply of pollen and nectar across the growing season. In this case, tall thistle, an important native wildflower, is supplying food to a bee in return for pollination services.

All of us have our favorite prairie species, whether we’re fans of flowers, butterflies, birds, or some other group of organisms.  It’s easy to focus our attention on those favorite species, and worry about whether they will survive all the challenges that face prairies today.  If we really care about prairies, however, we should probably focus more on (and celebrate) the richness of species that keep prairies humming along, no matter what gets thrown at them.  The variety of yellow-flowered sunflowerish plants, the broad array of latex-producing milkweed-like plants, the complexity of the plant-pollinator relationship, and countless other examples of diversity and redundancy help ensure the survival of prairies well into the future.  That resilience is why I remain optimistic about the future of prairies.

Posted in Prairie Animals, Prairie Insects, Prairie Natural History, Prairie Photography, Prairie Plants | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Photo of the Week – February 1, 2018

Earlier this week, Alex (one of our new Hubbard Fellows) and I spent some time exploring a frozen wetland in our Platte River Prairies.  Thin clouds diffused the sun’s rays and created wonderful light for photography.  The wetland was mostly iced over, but there were a few areas of open water (we flushed a few dozen geese and ducks as we arrived), and we had to step carefully and listen for cracking sounds as we walked…

In some places, leaves and stems warmed by the sun had melted the ice around them, creating fascinating patterns and textures in the ice.  Cattail seeds blew softly in the breeze, and a few perched gracefully where they had landed on the ice.  Intriguing branching patterns of crystallization were also scattered about on the surface of the frozen wetland.  About an hour after we arrived, the bright light dimmed as the clouds above us thickened.  We took our cue and moved on to other places and tasks.

Posted in Prairie Photography | Tagged , , , | 7 Comments

A Plot-Sized Biodiversity and Photography Project

Today, I’m beginning a new photography project aimed at exploring and celebrating the small scale diversity and complexity of prairies.   I’ve picked out a 1 x 1 meter plot in a small patch of restored prairie here in Aurora, Nebraska, and I will be photographing everything I can within that tiny area over the next year or so.  My objectives are to find and document as much beauty and diversity as I can and to show the dynamic nature of prairie life, even at a very small scale.

Lincoln Creek Prairie, with the yellow flags marking my square meter plot.

The plot sits in a narrow strip of land restored in the 1980’s by Bill Whitney and Prairie Plains Resource Institute.  I picked Lincoln Creek Prairie because it’s right across town from me, and therefore easy for me to get to frequently.  It’s also a great restored site that was planted with a diverse mixture of prairie species (over 100 species) and is well-established.  However, the prairie is small enough that it doesn’t host any grassland-nesting birds or other animal species that need relatively large and open prairie habitats, and suffers from all the other issues that come along with tiny prairies.  I anticipate that most or all of the organisms I photograph during the coming year will be plants and invertebrates, but I’m confident that I won’t find a shortage of subject matter.

A view of the 1 x 1 plot from above

I didn’t pick the small plot randomly, but I also didn’t try to find a spot with more diversity than any other nearby.  Instead, I looked for a place that would catch the light well during most of the year but was out of the way enough to not be disturbed by people hiking the nearby trail.  I freely admit that I chose the exact location of the 1 x 1 plot because it has a butterfly milkweed plant in it – it’s a nicely photogenic species.  This isn’t research, after all, and I don’t have to select my plot in a completely unbiased way!  However, I’m confident that the 1 x 1 plot I chose is representative of the rest of the prairie around it.

Switchgrass (Panicum virgatum) with a flower that never completely came out of its sheath last summer.

I began my photography journey within the plot yesterday, and took the photos you see here in this post.  I’ve already discovered one big challenge regarding my plans – it’s going to be difficult to avoid crushing or breaking the vegetation within the plot during my frequent visits.  I don’t see any way to avoid matting down the vegetation around the edge of the plot, but I’ll try not to do any more of that than necessary, and hopefully that won’t excessively impact what I see inside the plot.

The curled and dried leaf of stiff sunflower (Helianthus pauciflorus)

Right now, the plot is fairly uniformly brown, and perhaps drab looking from a distance.  However, I didn’t have much trouble finding interesting shapes and textures to photograph during the 10 minutes or so I spent there yesterday.  Even without green vegetation or crawling invertebrates, there was plenty to look at.  That bodes well for the coming year, I think!  Stay tuned…

Maximilian sunflower (Helianthus maximiliani) seed head, minus the seeds.  Birds, mammals, and/or other creatures likely picked it clean last fall.

A butterfly milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa) seed pod on a curled stem.

Posted in Prairie Natural History, Prairie Photography, Prairie Plants | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 17 Comments

Photo of the Week – January 26, 2018

Leftovers.  When we cook a big meal and don’t eat it all, we bundle the rest up and save it for later.  We might not feed it to company, but there’s a distinct pleasure (at least for me) in coming back later to dig back into the remains of a great meal.

In a funny way, the idea of leftovers applies to many of my photography excursions as well.  Often, I’ll get out in the field and a theme of sorts will start to emerge as I wander around with my camera.  I usually notice something interesting and then look for other aspects or examples of that.  Sometimes, it’s a particular plant species, and the variety of pollinators or other insects using that same plant.  Other times, the theme is a little more broad – having to do with the impacts of some prairie management strategy or a recent weather event.  As a result, when I get home with a batch of photos, many of them can be strung together into a story I use for blog posts and/or presentations.  Scattered among those photos, however, are the leftovers.  The leftovers are the photos that I really like, but that don’t fit into a particular theme or story.

During the winter, when I’m not as active as a photographer, I have time to dig back into the remains of those earlier photo excursions.  While it’s not necessarily polite to share leftovers with company, I’m going to break that rule today and share some of mine from last summer.

Wild licorice (Glycyrrhiza lepidota). This is one of the better portraits I’ve managed to get of this great plant.

American germander (Teucrium canadense) is fairly uncommon in our Platte River Prairies, but when it does occur, it often grows in large patches. It’s always been a difficult flower for me to photograph because it sticks out in all different directions, and it’s hard to figure out what to focus on. As I walked past this plant one morning last summer, my brain saw something that might work, and I ended up with a photo I liked.

Getting sharp photos of spiders on their webs is always an accomplishment. Even the slightest breeze pushes them around substantially, making it really hard to get a photo that freezes that motion.  During a pleasant morning walk at the Niobrara Valley Preserve last summer, I spotted this spider and managed to get at least one sharp image as it swayed gently in the wind.

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