Are Prairies Less Natural Because They Need Us?

What if I told you tallgrass prairie is a human construct?

Would you think it’s less important?  Less natural?  Less real?

I don’t know if “human construct” is a totally fair description, but it’s certainly true that tallgrass prairie in the central United States exists because of people.  In many places, it formed because of people, and throughout its range, it relies on human stewardship for its continued persistence.

Let’s step back in time a little. 

While the actual timing of human arrival in North America is still being debated, there is consensus that people were here well before the ice sheets receded from the center of the continent (between 8,000 and 12,000 years ago).  Those humans played pivotal roles in the ecosystems they lived in. They hunted, cultivated and transported plants, and, perhaps most influentially, actively used fire in many different ways. 

As the continent warmed and bloomed after the ice age, human stewardship shaped plant and animal communities. In particular, people burned the landscape around them enough to create grasslands in what otherwise would surely have been wooded landscapes.  That was particularly important in the eastern portions of the tallgrass prairie.  Lightning fires were part of that story, too, but they were much less significant than the frequent, intentional use of fire by people.

In other words, if it hadn’t been for people and their stewardship of the land, tallgrass prairies would not have existed across much of what is now the Midwestern United States.  Throughout subsequent millennia, people have continued their stewardship, allowing prairies to persist in places where trees would otherwise have moved in.

Chelsea Forehead ignites a prairie that will help keep woody plants from taking over this prairie landscape.

Today, the majority of tallgrass prairie has been lost, of course – mostly through conversion to row crops.  The prairie that remains still relies on continuous, thoughtful stewardship by people.  Without active management with prescribed fire, haying, grazing, and/or targeted invasive species suppression, tallgrass prairie transitions to something else – shrubland, woodland, or a low-diversity herbaceous community that no longer qualifies as “prairie”.

Does that reliance on people make tallgrass prairies unnatural?  Does it mean we should “let nature take its course” and allow tallgrass prairie to become what it’s supposed to become? 

You’re welcome to form your own opinion, of course, but I feel strongly that the answer to both questions is no.  Most ecosystems on earth are strongly tied to human stewardship and have been for tens of thousands of years.  It’s not that those ecosystems or the species that depend upon them would all be destroyed in the absence of people, but they’d change dramatically – and many species would suffer as a result. We humans have certainly not always done the best job at land management but that doesn’t mean we can or should abdicate our responsibility as stewards.

Speaking more locally, prairie is amazing, beautiful, and complex.  The incredible, diverse ecological communities that live in tallgrass prairie rely upon our continued attention and stewardship. Losing those would be an immense tragedy.

This photo captures the essence of prairie. The more you look, the more you see.

Tallgrass prairie isn’t less important, natural, or real because it relies upon humans.  Instead, our long-standing, interconnected, and interdependent relationship with the prairie should increase its relevance and value to us. 

Just as with any other worthwhile relationship, though, we can’t just ignore the prairie and hope for the best.  Only thoughtful, adaptable care will ensure we can keep this good thing going for a very long time.

Additional Reading. If you want to learn more about the long relationship between humans and nature (prairies and otherwise), here are a few recent journal articles you might enjoy. They’ll get you started and provide many other references you can dig into if you want to keep going:

Impacts of indigenous burning in the Great Plains

Presence of people after the North American ice sheets receded

The shaping of global ecosystems by people for more than 12,000 years

Square Meter Plot in Late Winter

On Tuesday, a storm moved through much of Nebraska and surrounding states, bringing very strong winds (gusts to 50-70 mph) and varying amounts of rain and snow. Schools were shut down, including here in Aurora, and most people just stayed inside.

HOWEVER. Right before the storm there was a beautiful, calm, foggy morning and I made a quick trip to my square meter plot to say hi before the winds hit. You might think there’d be nothing happening in the prairie on a foggy early March morning. Well, there wasn’t a ton of activity, but there was plenty to see, and I spent about 40 minutes trying to see it all.

Here’s what the plot looked like on the morning of March 4, right before the wind started really cooking.

When I arrived, I chased off a couple sparrows/ They were probably tree sparrows, but I didn’t get a good look at them. I didn’t add them to my species list for the project because A) I didn’t identify them, B) I didn’t photograph them, and C) I already have photos of tracks in the snow that are likely tree sparrow tracks. Those sparrows, and maybe other animals, though, have really been working over the sunflowers in the plot.

Most of the heads of those sunflowers have been torn apart as various critters have scoured them for any remaining seeds. In addition, as you can see in the above photo, most of the sunflower stems have been knocked down – I assume from a combination of snow, wind, and perching birds.

Maximilian sunflower heads and fog.
A closer view, showing what’s left of some of the heads.
An even closer view of a Maximilian sunflower seed head

Birds aren’t the only thing feeding on sunflower seed heads, though. There were small exit holes in several of the sunflower heads within the plot. I photographed them and then sent a photo to my friend M.J. Paulsen at the University of Nebraska. As he usually does, he responded quickly with helpful information.

M.J. said there are three different moth species whose larvae can make exit holes in sunflower heads. Based on the size of the hold and the look of the sunflower, though, his best guess was that these were made by the sunflower bud moth (Suleima helianthana). (I did add that species to my list because even if it’s one of the other two, it would still be a new addition.)

A close-up of an exit hole in a Maximilian sunflower head made by a moth caterpillar.

In addition to appreciating the little holes in sunflower heads, I also had fun just exercising my camera and brain. It’s been a relatively slow winter for photography. There hasn’t been a lot of frost or snow, which both draw me out into the field. I’ve also been busy with other things. Either way, it was really nice to switch on my photographer/explorer brain for a while.

The remaining photos are examples of me just looking for patterns, light, and beauty – which has been the best part of this whole square meter project, anyway. As I keep telling people, the species list is fun, but the real joy comes from making myself focus closely on one little area and see things I wouldn’t otherwise notice. I highly recommend it.

Big bluestem stems
Butterfly milkweed leaves
Big bluestem leaf