Saving Pollinators One Thistle at a Time

Pollinator populations are in trouble for a lot of reasons.  Loss and degradation of habitat, pesticides, and diseases are all major contributors.  However, at least in the Central United States, much of the pollinator decline can be tied to spiny pink/purple-flowered plants and the way humans react to them.

Tall thistle, a native annual wildflower, is a big favorite among pollinator insects.

Tall thistle, a native annual wildflower, is a big favorite among pollinator insects.  However, it is seen by many people as a weed that needs to be eliminated from the earth.

On the face of it, thistles seem like they’d be pretty well-liked.  Thistle seeds are a major food source for birds and other wildlife, as well as for a variety of invertebrates. The abundant nectar and pollen found in thistle flowers make them one of the most popular plants among both pollinator and non-pollinator invertebrates.  As if that wasn’t enough, most thistles have large and/or abundant blossoms, which you’d think would make them very attractive to people.  Sure, they’ve got spines, but so do cacti, yucca, and many other plants gardeners love to landscape with.  So why do we hate thistles so much?

The cultural dislike of thistles is not at all a new phenomenon; references to the unpopularity of thistles can be found at least as far back as the Book of Genesis in the Bible.  There, thistles are mentioned when God curses Adam after he eats the forbidden fruit. Genesis 3:17-18 – “Cursed is the ground because of you… Both thorns and thistles it shall grow for you…”  Clearly, if God includes thistles as part of His curse on all humanity, they are not a crowd favorite.

Regardless of why thistles are so widely disliked, our contempt for them causes serious problems for pollinators.  This happens in two ways: 1) direct destruction of an important floral resource for pollinators, and 2) major side effects associated with #1.

Because thistles are so important to pollinators, our compulsion to destroy them is a major problem.  Sure, some thistle species are invasive and can cause enough ecological damage that their control is warranted.  Most thistle species, however, are targeted for destruction purely because they are thistles.  Many of those are native wildflower species and are not at all aggressive or problematic.  Regardless, there are few places where thistles are tolerated, let alone encouraged.  The result is the loss of a big source of food for many pollinators.

Musk thistles and regal fritillaries (before we chopped them because they are designated as noxious weeds and we are legally obligated to eradicate them.) The Nature Conservancy's Platte River Prairies, Nebraska.

Musk thistles and regal fritillaries.  Musk thistles are designated as noxious weeds and we are legally obligated to eradicate them.) The Nature Conservancy’s Platte River Prairies, Nebraska.

While the loss of thistles themselves is a big problem for pollinators, the methods we use to eliminate them can have much bigger impacts.  If we were content to dig thistles out of the ground one by one, things wouldn’t be so bad.  Of course, that’s not always feasible – some perennial species such as Canada thistle are rhizomatous and can’t be killed by digging.  Herbicide use is the other available option.  Spot spraying individual plants or clumps can be relatively innocuous, but only if the person spraying is judicious and selective about what they spray.

However, working thistles one by one takes a lot of time, and just because we hate thistles doesn’t mean we want to spend a lot of time getting rid of them.  Broadcast herbicide spraying, by airplane or boom sprayer, can kill lots of thistles in very short order.  It’s a great way to get rid of all those unsightly pink flowers in one fell swoop…at least for that season.  Unfortunately, broadcast spraying also kills a wide array of other wildflowers, and most of those never recover (the ones that do are the ones we tend to like least – like ragweeds).

The grand irony is that because broadcast spraying kills so many non-target plant species, the spaces left open by those dead wildflowers are usually colonized by thistles.  Thus, while broadcast spraying is quick, it tends to perpetuate thistle populations by destroying their competitors.  (Also, most large thistle populations are there because of chronic overgrazing or some other major disturbance that weakens perennial vegetation and creates space for thistles to grow.  Broadcast spraying doesn’t address those underlying issues.)  Oh, and by the way, killing off all the wildflowers in a pasture or roadside also wipes out the pollinators that depend upon them for food.

Our cultural dislike of thistles leads us to kill off as many as we can each year.  Since thistles are a major food source for pollinators, that’s grave news for pollinator conservation.  Our desire for more “efficient” ways to kill thistles has led to even worse news, however – the loss of plant diversity across millions of acres.  Since plant diversity sustains pollinators by providing varied and consistent food through the season, losing that diversity at a large scale is devastating.  We can rebuild some of what we’ve lost through restoration, and we can save what’s left, but only if we change the way we think about thistles.  We’d better hurry; pollinator declines are not slowing down.

I think we need a thistle fan club.  Who’s with me??  Let’s do this thing.  I’ve come up with a basic logo and tag line (below) to get us started.  Click here to get an easily printable version you can hang on your office door or tape to your car window.  It’ll be a great conversation starter!  In fact, let’s have fun with this.  If you feel like it, take a picture of how you displayed the logo and put it on your favorite social media with the hashtag #thistlehelp.  Not a social media person?  Feel free to email me a photo – maybe I’ll collect some of them and use them in a future post.  If you email me, please keep the file size below 1 mb…   Use this email address: chelzer(at)tnc.org.

The bees and butterflies of the world are depending on you.  This is going to sweep the nation, you’ll see!

ThistleFanClub

 

Bee Goggles

One of the best outcomes from learning a lot about a group of species is that I start to see prairie through their eyes.  That perspective has been really valuable for me and has led me to evaluate, restore, and manage prairies differently.  Over the last couple years, I’ve been learning quite a bit about bees and other pollinators (and dragging you along with me through numerous posts on those species – sorry about that).  As a result, when I look at prairies these days, I sometimes feel like I’m doing so through “bee goggles”.

Stiff goldenrod (Solidago rigida) is done blooming and well into the process of making seed.  It seemed like the blooming window for this and other late summer/early fall species was really short this year.

Stiff goldenrod (Solidago rigida) is done blooming and well into the process of making seed. It seemed like the blooming window for this and other late summer/early fall species was really short this year.

What I’m seeing through my bee goggles these days is that food gets pretty scarce in the fall, and the end of this wildflower season is very near.  Even a couple weeks ago, when Anne Stine and I were doing the last field sampling of bees for her research project (September 18 and 20), it was clear that most plant species were done blooming for the season.  Most goldenrods were finished, as were sunflowers, tall boneset, and just about everything else.  As a result, we didn’t see as many bees as we’d hoped to, and they were very concentrated on the few blooming flowers that were still around.

One group of flowers that was still blooming was the asters.  In fact, heath aster (Aster ericoides) provided, by far, the greatest abundance of flowers we saw during those September bee surveys.  Interestingly, however, even given the scarcity of other flowering plant species, we saw surprisingly few bees using heath aster.  We did, however, see lots of hover flies (Syrphid sp) and quite a few wasps.  Sure, there were a few bees here and there, including some little sweat bees and a few others, but not all that many.  In addition to heath aster, there were two other larger-flowered asters blooming in a few prairies: New England aster (Aster novae-angliae) and panicled aster (Aster lanceolatus).  Both of those seemed to host significantly more bee visitors than did heath aster, and New England aster – though pretty uncommon – was the most attractive of the two.

(For you botanists in the audience: yes, I know the genus of asters has changed, but I refuse to go along with it.  Asters are asters, not Symphyo-whatever.  Sue me.) 

Heath aster was in bloom during our last bee sampling period but seemed to be much more attractive to flies and wasps than to bees.

Heath aster was in bloom during our last bee sampling period but seemed to be much more attractive to flies and wasps than to bees.

Pitcher sage (Salvia azurea) was another late-blooming species that was very attractive, at least to larger bees – as well as butterflies.  However, while we saw scads of bumblebees on pitcher sage during our last bee survey period (August 19-20) we only found a couple this time around.  Because of that, I assume the queens that will initiate next year’s new colonies have mated and are now finding a nice comfy place to spend the winter.  Since producing fertilized queens is the ultimate goal of every bumblebee colony, the rest of the colony members can (and will) die happy, knowing they played their role successfully.

This digger bee (Anthophora walshii) was perched one morning on a stiff sunflower that has finished blooming for the year.  Food is getting scarce...

This digger bee (Anthophora walshii) was perched one morning on a stiff sunflower that has finished blooming for the year. Food is getting scarce…

Interestingly, while looking for bees, we saw some widely scattered blooming plants of goldenrods, annual sunflowers, tall boneset, and a few others – even though the vast majority of plants within those species had long finished flowering.  Some of those plants appeared to have been grazed by cattle or other animals, and so were behind schedule and trying to rush some flowers and seed production before the first freeze.  Others just appeared to be late bloomers – in full flower, surrounded by others of the same species that were already decked out in seed heads.  Maybe they were just a little different genetically?  Regardless, those late individuals were getting abundant attention from bees and other pollinators and were clearly more attractive than heath aster…  As long as they are able to get their seeds ripened before temperatures drop too low, those late blooming flowers should come out pretty well.  As we harvest seed from some of those species this fall, it would be probably be smart for us to gather seeds from those plants that may be genetically inclined to bloom a little later than their counterparts.  Maybe we can create restored prairies with a longer flowering period and give late-season pollinators a little autumn boost.

This moth used pitcher sage as an overnight roost, but this particular plant is done providing nectar for the year.  There are still a few pitcher sage plants blooming here and there, but not many.

This moth used pitcher sage as an overnight roost, but this particular plant is done providing nectar for the year. There are still a few pitcher sage plants blooming here and there, but not many.

I don’t need bee goggles to see that fall has arrived.  Our prairies have mostly turned golden brown, and while the range of colors has narrowed, it has been complemented by an incredible array of seed head architecture that lends grasslands a new texture.  The subtle beauty of autumn prairies will last until next year’s green up starts, but it will be much quieter for a while without bees and the myriad other insects that make summer sound so alive.  However, as with all prairie animals, bees have their own ways of surviving the coming winter, and will emerge from dormancy – along with the rest of the prairie – when the time is right in the spring.

It’ll be good to see them again.