Smooth Sumac Suppression

You might recall a couple posts back in the summer of 2025 about woody encroachment in prairies. In the first, I talked about how it is becoming increasingly difficult to prevent woody encroachment in many prairie landscapes. Within those landscapes, we need to start learning how to manage shrubbier grasslands for biodiversity and productivity. In the second post, I discussed a couple small trials we were conducting to examine various stewardship approaches to suppressing the height and density of shrubs (one of which is the subject of today’s post).

Feel free to go back and read those posts if you like. They’re reasonably well-written, if I do say so myself. To save you time, though, the quick summary of the first is that increased carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is making woody plants much more competitive these days. That, combined with altered fire regimes, changes in native browsers, and other factors, means many prairies are getting shrubbier.

Where we can maintain open prairies with minimal woody cover, we should do that. However, if you’re managing a prairie that already has a lot of shrubs or trees, or if your prairie is surrounded by a landscape full of woody plants, it might be time for a different approach.

Your intrepid author, surrounded by smooth sumac taller than himself. Not all woody encroachment has to look like this. I, apparently, do.

Trying to eradicate big patches of shrubs from prairies, even if it’s possible (and it probably isn’t), is likely to cause losses in plant diversity and other negative impacts. Instead, what if we figure out how to mitigate some of the downsides of those shrubs and try to preserve diverse, if woodier, prairies? Again, I’m greatly simplifying this whole topic, so if this seems illogical or confusing, please go back and read those earlier posts.

We’ve been experimenting with various approaches toward managing the habitat structure of shrubby prairies. Today, I’m sharing some results of early trials with smooth sumac. I’ll report soon on some work we’re doing with roughleaf dogwood and western snowberry.

You can click on graphs and photos to see larger versions of them. If you’re reading this in an email, you might have to first click on the title of the post to open it online.

Back in 2023, we set up some trial plots at the Niobrara Valley Preserve to test the basic idea that multiple treatments in a growing season would have longer lasting effects than a single treatment. Others have seen that combining treatments leads to better results, so we were trying to build on those efforts. We tested combinations of three treatments – mowing, fire, and an herbicide called AIM, which is a contact herbicide that basically desiccates the foliage of broadleaf plants and shrubs. All these plots were treated in 2023 only. I went back to measure the results three years later in late 2026.

I was particularly interested in the herbicide because unlike most herbicides used for shrub control, this one won’t kill either the shrubs or any surrounding perennial wildflowers. The hope was that it would act similarly to a fire. The first thing we learned is that it doesn’t do very much to full-size sumac plants. The herbicide spray didn’t penetrate well into the canopy and just burned off some of the top leaves. However, it worked much better as a second treatment on the regrowth of mowed stems. As a result, we abandoned the plots where we sprayed AIM as a first treatment.

Through a series of intentional and unintentional circumstances, we ended up with three different small experiments (see above). Each has very little replication, so please remember that when you look at the results. THESE ARE VERY PRELIMINARY TESTS. We were just looking for hints of patterns to pursue more rigorously in the future.

In 2026, I went back to the plots and measured the height of the sumac – three years after our treatments. I was surprised and pleased with how durable the impacts had been. I wish I’d measured changes in stem density too, especially because I saw a fair number of top-killed stems in the plots, but I didn’t, and we’ll all have to live with that.

You can see the graphs above and photos below, showing the results of experiment #1. Three full field seasons after treatment, sumac stems that were either mowed twice or mowed and sprayed with AIM were still about half as tall as untreated stems. It’s a pretty striking difference.

The second experiment looked at plots that were mowed in either June or August and then burned in late November of the same year. This took place on a site with a drier soil type (I think, based on aboveground observation only) than the first. As a result, the sumac grows shorter and less densely here than in the other nearby sites.

I was surprised that both the June and August mowing treatments seemed to significantly reduce sumac height (even three years after treatment!) when combined with a November fire. The stems that were burned without being mowed first seemed to rebound to their full height within two years (based on visual comparison to nearby patches the fire missed). The stems that were mowed first were still about half that height after three full field seasons.

In experiment #3, we looked at the cumulative effects of three treatments, including mowing in June, mowing or AIM herbicide in August, and then a late November burn later that year. The treatment plots were again very different than the untreated plots. In this experiment, the Mow+AIM herbicide results looked a little less impressive than the Mow+Mow results, but remember that this was based on only TWO replications, so take those results with a grain of salt. However, even the Mow+AIM plots were still much shorter than the plots that weren’t treated at all.

We will be following up on this work in the coming years, hopefully with some larger treatment areas. I’m particularly intrigued by two things. First, adding a dormant season burn following summer mowing had a bigger impact than I’d expected. At a site like the Niobrara Valley Preserve where we have thousands of acres of sumac-encroached grassland, it’s not feasible to mow much of that twice in the same season. But if we can mow some of it before or after a burn and strongly amplify the effects of the burn, that might be worth trying.

Second, the AIM herbicide results were promising enough to warrant more testing. It is an herbicide treatment that shouldn’t decrease plant diversity around or beneath treated shrubs. It can also be used on topography that is too steep or rough to be mowed. That means we might be able to combine it with burning and (as above) greatly increase the effectiveness of that fire on shrub suppression.

All of this is great, of course, and provides me with more optimism that we can manage shrubby prairies in ways that sustain plant diversity, offer good habitat for most prairie wildlife species, and prevent big losses in livestock productivity. The simultaneous challenge, though, is to figure out what to aim for with our management. We don’t know much about how various wildlife species respond to different heights and densities of shrubs, or at what height/density shrubs start decreasing plant diversity or productivity beneath them. We’ll be trying to answer some of those questions in the coming years as well. Hopefully, some of you will be doing the same!

Photos of the Week – November 2, 2026

We’re still waiting for the first hard freeze of the season, so I’m still able to photograph insects. And milkweed seeds, of course, but that’s a given, and not related to temperature at all. I promise there’s more to see than that, though, both in the prairies and in this post.

A milkweed bug nymph with its straw-like mouthpart embedded in a milkweed seed.
Another nymph.
A large milkweed bug feeding on a butterfly milkweed seed.
As I watched the seed the above bug was clinging to fell out of the pod, taking the bug with it. Here’s a photo taken right after that happened.
Milkweed seed and stickseed (Hackellia virginiana) seeds at sunrise
Milkweed seeds in early light. I like that this almost looks like an underwater scene.
YAWN – another milkweed seed
Really?
But this one has a cool background and clean lines

As I was walking through Lincoln Creek Prairie this weekend, I saw some Indiangrass that was turning pumpkin orange. There was a spot on one leaf that, upon closer inspection, turned out to be an adult spittlebug. I think this is a diamond spittlebug, which is one I’ve not photographed before. The larvae of spittlebugs are the ones that hide inside clusters of bubbles on plant stems. The adults look a lot like planthoppers or leafhoppers, which they’re related to.

A dew-covered moth
Katydid male

I’m still seeing Chinese mantises around, and have found a couple of their egg cases, too. I wonder what they’re eating this time of year. A lot of the larger insects, including butterflies and moths, are pretty rare in local prairies now (though still showing up on the zinnias in my yard). There are plenty of mosquitos around, but I’m guessing mantises don’t see them as worth catching. Too bad.

Chinese mantis
Chinese mantis
A different Chinese mantis (and different color) than the two above

Some of you may remember a post from a few years ago where I complained about the unfairness of naming plants and animals “false something-or-other” just because they happened to resemble a species we’d already named. Specifically, I griped about false sunflowers (Heliopsis helianthoides) and false milkweed bugs (Lygaeus turcicus), and even proposed alternative names, none of which have stuck…

Anyway, despite my failed campaign, the insect and flower persist. The false milkweed bug’s favorite food items are false sunflower seeds, which is fun, and makes it easy to photograph the two species together. Similar to milkweed bugs, false milkweed bugs use their long mouthpart to inject chemicals into the seed that liquefy it and then they suck out that “pre-digested” slurry. It’s a cool approach to feeding on a seed when you don’t have teeth.

False milkweed bug feeding on the seed of a false sunflower.
Differential grasshopper and morning dew.

While most people think about woodlands and forests when they think about fall color, prairies are no slouches in this department. As is often the case with prairies, though, you often have to look at little closer to see it. Right now, for example, many wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) leaves have turned a gorgeous red color and lead plant leaves are golden colored. There are lots of other colors out there as well.

Bergamot leaf and dew drop.
Another dew drop on a bergamot leaf.
One more.
Lead plant leaves with morning backlighting.
Smooth sumac is one of the most striking of the native shrubs this time of year.

Over the last few years, I’ve started visiting a particular stretch of Lincoln Creek where a variety of colorful leaves fall onto the water and float around. It’s a great place to hang out on breezy overcast days when photography is difficult in other locations. I made a couple trips down there this weekend and had a great time getting muddy and finding beauty.

I think my favorite part of prairie (and stream) photography is that it’s mostly an exercise in searching for beauty. Because I don’t usually work on assignment like many professional photographers, I have the luxury of just following the light and looking for anything that strikes me. There are lots of ways to go looking for beauty, and no shortage of it out there to be found (and not just in prairies). There’s probably a lesson in that somewhere.