The Bench Strength of Prairies in the Face of Climate Change

In case you hadn’t noticed, the climate is changing.  Things are getting weird, and they’re going to get weirder.  Here in central North America, we’re expecting more and more intense storm events and drought periods in the coming decades.  Scientists are scrambling to figure out how to predict and facilitate the inevitable changes those crazy weather events will bring to natural systems, including prairies.

Fortunately, prairies have been training for this for a very long time.  A few months ago, I wrote a post about the resilience of prairies, and how that resilience is built largely upon the diversity within their ecological communities and the size and connectivity of prairie habitats.  Prairies that are relatively big and still have the majority of their potential plant and animal species are going into this encounter with rapid climate change with what you might call solid bench strength.

Diversity of plants and animals is the keystone to ecological resilience. The Nature Conservancy’s Nachusa Grasslands, Illinois.

In sports, teams want to have lots of available players that represent a broad diversity of skills.  Each opponent they face will have its own individual mix of power, endurance, speed, and other attributes.  A successful team can build a roster for each game that counters their opponent’s strengths, no matter what they are.  The number and quality of their players is a team’s bench strength.

Healthy prairies have great bench strength too.  No matter what gets thrown at them, they can adapt by changing their roster of species.  The speed at which they can drastically change the makeup of their “team” is impressive.  Anyone who has spent many years watching the same prairie has seen this in action, but none of us have seen prairies go through what Professor John Weaver saw back in the 1930’s and 40’s.

Weaver, one of the best known prairie ecologists of all time, had been studying 30 “large typical prairies” across parts of Nebraska, Iowa, Kansas, and Colorado prior to the start of the Dust Bowl era.  His baseline data gave him an invaluable opportunity to document the dramatic changes to the plant communities of those prairies during and after the droughts of the 1930’s.  What he recorded, along with his former student F.W. Albertson, was an incredible testimony to the dynamism and resilience of those prairies.  Their 88 page 1944 publication, entitled “Nature and Degree of Recovery of Grassland from the Great Drought of 1933 to 1940”  encapsulates the bulk of their findings in one place, and is worth a read if you have the time.

In 2012, we got a small glimpse of what Weaver and Albertson saw in the 1930’s, but our drought – while severe – only lasted one year here in Nebraska.
In 2013, the response of the prairie to the 2012 drought included some explosions of wildflowers, including shell leaf penstemon (Penstemon grandiflorus).

One of the biggest plant community shifts Weaver and Albertson documented was the widespread and dramatic death of grasses such as big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii), little bluestem (Schizachyrium scoparium), and Kentucky bluegrass (Poa pratensis), and the subsequent rise of other grasses such as prairie dropseed (Sporobolous heterolepis), sand dropseed (Sporobolous cryptandrous), porcupine grass (Stipa spartea), and most of all, western wheatgrass (Pascopyrum smithii).  Western wheatgrass populations exploded throughout the mid to late 1930’s, to the point where many prairies were completely dominated by it, to the near exclusion of other plant species. In fact, in a 1942 publication, Weaver said the following, “The large area of drought-damaged true prairie and native pasture now dominated by western wheat grass and the harmful effects of the successful competition for water of western wheat grass with species of greater forage value present a problem of much scientific interest and great economic importance.”

In other words, as they made massive substitutions within their lineups, prairies were changing so much they became almost unrecognizable, even to those who knew them best.  Weaver and Albertson watched waves of forb species they’d always considered to be of little value become stars on the field, and they and others didn’t quite know how to react.  Daisy fleabane (Erigeron strigosus), Missouri goldenrod (Solidago missouriensis), and heath aster (Aster ericoides) were all examples of wildflowers that suddenly rose to prominence in new and major ways.  The two dismayed scientists described how heath aster, a “nearly worthless native forb,” formed near monocultures across wide swaths of prairie, to the extent that it “ruined many of the prairies…for the production of hay, because of its brush-like growth.”  Others were out of their depths on this too, and Weaver and Albertson reported that “considerable native sod was broken because of the seriousness of this pest.”  In the following sentence, however, they begrudgingly added a short sentence, “Of course, it did protect the soil.”

While Weaver and Albertson considered heath aster to be “nearly worthless” it plays an important role in the prairie, and is an important food source for pollinators in the fall.

Exactly.  While the strategy was foreign and frightening to those who hadn’t seen prairies dealing with these kinds of conditions before, those prairies were just doing what they’ve done many times before – making whatever roster adjustments were necessary to keep functioning at a high level.  In addition to forb species they denigrated as weeds, Weaver and Albertson noted that many wildflowers with “large storage organs”, including bulbs and corms, also greatly expanded their population size during the dust bowl years.  This included species like Violet wood-sorrel (Oxalis violaceae), bracted spiderwort (Tradescantia bracteata), windflower (Anemone caroliniana), and wild garlic (Allium canadense).  Those species and others increased the size of the patches they’d occurred in previously, but also were found “in many new locations.”  Other native forbs that became superabundant in some prairies, especially early in the dust bowl years, included prairie ragwort (Senecio plattensis), white sage (Artemisia ludoviciana), and yarrow (Achillea millefolium).

Windflower (Anemone caroliniana) was one of the wildflowers with “large storage organs” that proliferated during the droughts of the 1930’s.

As rains started to return in the early 1940’s, Weaver and Albertson watched with amazement and renewed optimism as plant communities started “recovering”, which of course meant they were returning to a composition more familiar to the people observing them.  Grasses were often the first to rebound in prairies, including big bluestem, which initially formed large and lush monocultures in many places.  Wildflowers that hadn’t been seen for seven years or more, suddenly appeared everywhere, including blue-eyed grass (Sisyrinchium campestre), which grew “more thickly than if the stands of 7 normal years had been combined.”  Downy gentian (Gentiana puberula), which had been considered rare prior to the big droughts, became much more common in the early 1940’s than Weaver and Albertson had ever seen before, with abundances of “15 or more plants in a space of a few rods”.

Stiff sunflower (Helianthus pauciflorus) returned fairly quickly to “normal abundance” by 1943, as did many others, including silverleaf scurfpea (Pediomelum argophyllum), cream wild indigo (Baptisia bracteata), and buffalo pea (Astragalus crassicarpus).  Prairie violets (Viola pedatifida), pussy toes (Antennaria neglecta),  and others came back more slowly, but returned nevertheless.  Importantly, those returning species didn’t appear to be traveling from long distances.  Instead, they simply re-emerged, either from seeds or underground buds, from where they’d been sitting on the metaphorical bench, awaiting the call to step up to the plate again.

Buffalo pea (Astragalus crassicarpus) and many other wildflowers recovered from the long droughts at a speed that amazed Weaver and Albertson.

The prairies we know today have been through a lot.  In Nebraska and surrounding states, we have specific documentation of the kinds of extreme roster changes prairies can and have made to adjust to the world around them, thanks to the work of John Weaver and F.W. Albertson.  If you have a favorite local prairie, and I hope you do, it’s important to remember that the way it has looked for as long as you’ve known it is only a small sample of what it’s capable of.  Smart teams don’t reveal their secrets before they need to.

As we work to keep prairies healthy through this period of rapid climate change, it’s both useful and reassuring to remember what they’ve been through before.  Today’s prairies certainly have additional challenges to deal with today, compared to the dust bowl days (more invasive species, more landscape fragmentation, etc.), but many should still have sufficient bench strength to make the adjustments they’ll need to make in the coming years.  Our responsibility is to provide management that helps prairies sustain their plant and animal diversity, as well as to protect prairies from additional conversion to cropland or other land uses.  Where possible, restoring prairie habitat around and between prairie fragments can also help build resilience.  In short, we have to allow prairies to do what they do best – adapt and adjust.  Prairies are wily veterans and they’ve been in this game for a long time.  It’s a good bet they’ve still got a few tricks up their sleeve.

Hubbard Fellowship Blog – No “Earth” without “Art”

This post was written by Katharine Hogan, one of our Hubbard Fellows.  Katharine is multifaceted and very talented – exactly the kind of person we like having in our Fellowship program.  

I used to be a fairly prolific artist. As soon as I could hold a pencil I began drawing and copying whatever pictures of horses I could find. As a teenager, I explored multiple media and subjects, including colored pencil landscapes, watercolor and acrylic paintings, ceramic dishware, and illuminated Celtic calligraphy in inks and metallic finishes. My hands would wander over the paper, canvas, and clay for hours, creating from whatever came into my head or caught my eye. I would get frustrated, I would get inspired, and almost always something would find its way out of my head.

Around when I finished graduate school, this drive began to fade. It hasn’t disappeared – there have been occasional spurts of creation, but overall the last two and a half years have seen a huge drop in my artistic inspiration. When I did create, it was painstakingly slow and the hours no longer slipped away from me. This stressed me out. Art had been so huge in my life for so long, what was happening? Would I ever be able to access that drive again, or was it gone? Over time I became resigned, and figured all I could do was keep my mind open to any inspiration that might reemerge.

One of my few recent pieces of art, inspired by the fields of sunflowers seen along the Platte River in late summer. Photo by Katharine Hogan
One of my few recent pieces of art, inspired by the fields of sunflowers seen along the Platte River in late summer. Photo by Katharine Hogan

This past week, while I was cutting out the windows on the metal shipping containers that will eventually be The Nature Conservancy’s new sand hill crane viewing blinds, I was thinking about how even land management tasks that seem repetitive and straightforward have varying degrees of hidden skill behind their successful implementation.

The plasma cutter I was using to create the crane blind windows has a tiny spatial range where its electric arc most effectively cuts steel, and the evenness of the cut depends on holding the tip at a very consistent angle while simultaneously moving the cutter at a precise rate.

Katharine using a plasma cutter. Photo by Eric Chien.
Katharine using a plasma cutter. Photo by Eric Chien.

Safely and effectively spraying invasive plants depends on literally moment by moment interpretation of air movement, requires an understanding of how the leaves of different species shed or hold herbicide, and, of course, knowledge of sometimes subtle botanical differences between native and non-native species in various life stages.

Pausing beforehand for a sip of coffee is arguably not one of the more subtly demanding aspects of spraying weeds (in this case, reed canary grass) – but on chilly days it is one of the nicest! Photo by Katharine Hogan
Pausing beforehand for a sip of coffee is arguably not one of the more subtly demanding aspects of spraying weeds (in this case, reed canary grass) – but on chilly days it is one of the nicest! Photo by Katharine Hogan

And don’t even get me started on working with the tractor grapple. It takes less than five minutes to learn the basics of grapple operation, but it took me hours of operating those two levers until I truly began to grasp (pun intended) the subtleties of picking up and piling tree branches.

These tasks of subtle familiarity and mastery are not unlike the learning curves of artistic mediums. So, I wondered, have shop skills and land management techniques become my new artistic pursuits? Have I traded one skill for another that is often not recognized as art because it is narrowly defined with a specific, practical objective? Perhaps, but I believe it goes deeper than that.

I believe there is art hidden all around us. There is art in every efficient system of organization. An herbarium of native prairie plants is artistic in creation and appearance. Communicating with diverse audiences about the importance of prairies is an art both subtle in execution and many layered in its implications.

Our daily lives hold art as well. Aside from the more obvious sources such as cooking or interior design, there is also art in the words we give to the people in our lives, and in how we choose to spend our time so as to be more responsible with the resources in our possession. Every life can be treated like a work of art.

Art is many things. Among others, art is simultaneously the most intellectual and most visceral form of communication in its dual capacity to make us both think and feel. This communication can be purely aesthetic, or it can be pragmatic. We are all artists, whenever we take a concept to its completion in the way that best brings our talents to the rest of the world.

I still hope to rediscover my inspiration in the “traditional” studio art forms. Until then, I will simply have to do the best I can to recognize the hidden art before me every single day.

I would love to know your thoughts and responses to these ideas. Please let me know in the comments, or email me at katharine.hogan@tnc.org. Thanks! I hope you go forth and create.

Ok. I’m on Instagram. Now What?

One of my co-workers finally convinced me to join Instagram.

So now I’m on Instagram.

Yep, sitting here on Instagram.

 

…Now what?

I have some pretty strong objectives for the Prairie Ecologist blog. (I’m not doing this for my health, people!)  I want to raise awareness about the beauty, complexity, and importance of prairies, and I try to provide resources and ideas to help ensure prairies are restored and managed well.

I don’t really have objectives yet for Instagram because I’m not really sure what the potential is.  I’m in the pool, but I’m over in the corner treading water, trying to figure out what the excitement is all about.

screenshot_2016-10-10-09-18-02

Help!  If you are an Instagram user, what draws you in?  How can I use Instagram to increase prairie awareness and conservation?

Oh, and feel free to follow me.  My username is prairieecologist.

I’ll try to make it worth your while.

Graduating. Naturally.

My daughter graduated from high school this spring.  The graduation ceremony got me thinking about commencement speeches and how I might craft a conservation-oriented commencement speech in the extremely unlikely event that I’d ever be asked to give one.  Here’s an example of what I might have said to my daughter’s class if they’d asked.  

My daughter when she was much younger.  She's not planning a career in conservation, but I hope the time she's had in nature will serve her well and that she'll support conservation efforts no matter where life takes her.
My daughter when she was much younger. She’s not planning a career in conservation, but I hope the time she’s had in nature will serve her well and that she’ll support conservation efforts no matter where life takes her.  And yes, I’m very proud of her.

Congratulations on completing high school and earning your right to independence.  Use your new power and freedom wisely.

One of my greatest hopes for you is that you can feel comfortable in the outdoors.  That you can walk through natural areas without unreasonable fears of hidden snakes or spiders (or bears).  I hope you don’t feel intimidated by wide swaths of open space or dark shadowy woods.  The natural world does present some risk, and even bears in some places, but while it’s smart to take precautions against risks, being in nature should bring you relaxation and joy.

Gaining the confidence to feel at home in the outdoors comes through experience.  Hopefully, you’ve already had enough experience in nature to feel relatively comfortable there.  Whether you have or not, please make time to visit your backyard, local parks, national parks, and other areas where you can surround yourself with wildness.  Use your time there to reenergize yourself, but also to remind yourself that you too are a part of the natural world.  Explore.  Pick up rocks to see what’s under them.  Where appropriate, leave the trail and bushwhack up a hill or through a line of brush to see what’s on the other side.  Sit and watch an ant hill until you start to see order in the chaos.  With time, you’ll begin to recognize the many cycles that occur in your favorite natural places, including the migratory patterns of birds, butterflies, and dragonflies, and the regular progression of blooming plants through the seasons.

I hope that as you grow older you’ll also grow your appreciation of the value of nature.  Those of us who spend significant time exploring the outdoors understand the emotional and spiritual benefits that come with periodic escapes from the horde of humanity and its demands on our time and energy.  There are plenty of recreational activities that can pull you into the natural world, including hiking, hunting, fishing, photography, backpacking, boating, and birdwatching.  Any of those can help you relax, reflect, and keep a healthy perspective on the world.

At the same time, it’s also important to recognize the more utilitarian values of the natural world.  Clean drinking water comes from healthy ecosystems.  So does our food supply.  Critical processes like pollination, decomposition, and nutrient cycling rely on multitudes of species that, in turn, rely on intact food webs and biological diversity.  The air we breathe and the climate that sustains us depend upon cascades of natural processes driven by millions of plant, animal, and microbe species.

For all those reasons, both personal and societal, I hope you’ll support conservation efforts.  That doesn’t mean you have to chain yourself to a tree or shout slogans on the steps of the Capitol.  You also don’t have to be a research biologist or land manager, although both can be very fulfilling jobs if you’ve got the interest.  Instead, start by simply speaking well of nature and the outdoors to your peers.  Help others see the beauty and importance of the natural world through your eyes.  Help them see conservation for what it is; non-partisan, common sense, and good for everyone.  Recycle.  Compost.  Vote.  Contribute time and money to causes and organizations you feel good about.  Grow native plants in your yard.  There are countless small ways to contribute toward the conservation of nature, and all of them can make a real difference.

Most importantly, go take a hike.  Kneel down and watch the bees come and go from a flower.  Grab your old dirty shoes and splash around in a stream.  Or wear your good shoes and splash around in a stream.  You’re a high school graduate – who’s going to tell you no?

Monarch Conservation Strategies

Last week, I attended a conference aimed at creating a statewide conservation plan for monarch butterflies.  The meeting was really informative and thought-provoking.  I learned a great deal about the ecology and conservation needs of monarchs from Chip Taylor of Monarch Watch and others, and was part of some good discussions about potential strategies to help the species recover.  I thought I’d share some of what I learned from those discussions because they helped me better understand the issues surrounding monarch conservation.  Any errors in the following are a result of my misunderstanding what smart and knowledgeable people told me, and I apologize in advance.

Monarchs
Monarch butterflies on a summer morning.  The Nature Conservancy’s Platte River Prairies, Nebraska

Monarch Migration

The monarch butterfly is a migratory species, but it takes multiple generations to make the migration from parts of North America to Mexico and back.  Here in Nebraska, we’re part of the Eastern Population of monarchs, which extends from roughly the east edge of the Rocky Mountains to the east coast.  The butterflies in this population leave their Mexico wintering grounds in late February each year and head north.  They lay eggs in the southern United States and the monarchs produced by those eggs then head north into the northern half of the U.S. and the southern edge of Canada during May and early June.

During the summer, there are a couple generations of monarchs that mature and lay eggs without migrating.  However, in mid-August and September, monarch adults get the urge to migrate and start heading south.  Those that survive the trip usually reach the Sierra Madre Mountains of Mexico by early November.

Migratory
This migratory monarch is fueling up on a native thistle.  Thistles are among the top food sources for monarchs and other butterflies.  Allowing non-invasive thistles to persist in natural areas is an important part of pollinator conservation efforts.

Threats to Monarchs

There are two categories of threats to Monarchs: 1) Factors we can control, and 2) Factors we can’t.  The big factor we can’t control is weather and the way it interacts with migration timing and butterfly survival.  Weather can have a tremendous impact on butterflies, and many millions of butterflies are killed by hot weather, storms, or other events.  However, since we can’t control the weather, we have to focus on what we can control.

There is a long list of human-induced factors that affect monarch populations.  Those include the conversion of grasslands, roadsides, and field edges to row crops (largely facilitated by government policies) as well as farming practices that have nearly eliminated milkweed from farm fields.  Pesticide use is another factor, including pesticides used for farming and pesticides used for other purposes, including mosquito control.  Logging of forests in the wintering grounds of Mexico is another important issue.

I’d heard that the loss of milkweed from crop fields was a big deal for monarch butterflies, but hadn’t really understood why.  At the conference, we heard that research has shown that about four times as many eggs/plant are laid on milkweed plants in crop fields as on milkweed plants in other habitats.  (I’m not sure anyone understands why.)  In addition, while the eastern population is spread across a huge area of North America, about 50% of the butterflies that reach Mexico are born in the cornbelt of the U.S. – the intensively farmed Midwestern states.  Prior to the widespread use of glyphosate-resistant crops, milkweed was a pretty common inhabitant in crop fields throughout this prime breeding area for monarchs.  Now that farmers are so much more efficient at weed control, we’ve lost the most productive egg-laying habitat in the country’s most important breeding area for monarchs.

Conservation Strategies

Because monarchs can only be raised on milkweed, getting more milkweed plants in the landscape, especially within the cornbelt states, is a key part of increasing the monarch population.  It’s likely that more than a billion additional milkweed plants will be required to stabilize the monarch population.  Increasing milkweed populations to that extent will require a wide range of strategies.  In addition, protecting and restoring the wildflower-rich grasslands and other natural areas that provide food for adult monarchs, as well as for thousands of bee and other pollinator species, is also vitally important.

Swamp milkweed
It is critically important to increase the number of swamp milkweed (Asclepias incarnata) and other milkweed species available for monarch egg-laying.

One clear strategy is to plant more of monarchs’ favorite milkweed species in gardens, parks, roadsides, nature centers, and many other sites.  In the north-central U.S., milkweed species such as common (Asclepias syriaca), showy (A. speciosa), and swamp milkweed (A. incarnata), are known to be favorites, while green antelope horn (A. asperula) is important in more southern states.  You can find sources of seeds and plants at Monarch Watch or from the Xerces Society’s Project Milkweed website.  Sites like monarchgard.com can help with garden and landscape design ideas.

More milkweed in gardens and landscaping can make a big difference, but an even bigger part of monarch recovery needs to come from a change in the way milkweeds – and the weedy, edge habitats they thrive in – are perceived by the public.  Elimination of milkweed from roadsides, field edges, and odd corners and margins of our landscapes happens because we are uncomfortable with the “messiness” of those areas if they aren’t frequently mowed and/or sprayed with herbicides to make them look uniform in height and composition.  Allowing milkweed and other wildflowers to thrive in those odds-and-ends habitat areas can have a huge impact on monarchs and other pollinators, along with pheasants, song birds, and many other wildlife species.  Reducing mowing frequency and spot-spraying truly invasive plants – instead of broadcast spraying to kill anything that’s not grass – in these habitats saves both money and time as well.

Roadsides
“Sanitized” monoculture roadsides like this offer no benefit to monarch butterflies or other pollinators.  We need to change our cultural aesthetic and acknowledge the value and beauty of roadsides that actually offer habitat values to monarch butterflies, pollinators, pheasants, and other wildlife and invertebrate species.

The Role of Prairies?

Last week’s meeting also encouraged me to focus even harder on an additional aspect conservation I’ve already been working on – improving the contributions of native prairies and rangeland to pollinators.  The experts at our meeting, along with other sources of information on monarchs, seem to be focused largely on milkweed and the kinds of farm fields, edge habitats and landscaping mentioned above.  While all those are very important, I can’t help but think about the value of native prairies – especially in places like Nebraska where we still have millions of acres of grassland.

Milkweed in prairies
Many of our restored Platte River Prairies maintain milkweed populations for many years after establishment, even under fire and grazing management.  Figuring out what management strategies facilitate survival of milkweed may be a very important part of successful monarch conservation.

A healthy prairie with a diverse wildflower community is invaluable to bees and other pollinators, and also provides nectar resources needed by monarch butterfly adults.  If that prairie contains vibrant populations of milkweed species that provide egg-laying habitat to monarchs, that’s even better.  Many prairies don’t currently have strong milkweed populations.  Some milkweed species are not strong competitors in a tight-knit plant community, and certain grazing and other management practices tend to further discourage milkweeds.  Over the next several years, I am hoping to learn more about how to make prairies support stronger milkweed/monarch populations.  Hopefully, we and others can help make North American prairies even better contributors to the survival of monarch butterflies.

 

 

How big do prairies need to be?

There is an awful lot we still don’t understand about prairies (and the rest of the natural world, for that matter).  First and foremost, we haven’t even come close to discovering all the species that live in prairies.  We have probably identified all of the birds, and most of the other vertebrates, but there are still many prairie invertebrates no one has yet described.  The world of microorganisms is beginning to open up to us, but that is still, by far, the biggest pool of unknown species.  How can we manage a natural system when we don’t even know what’s there – especially when those inhabitants have a tremendous impact on ecosystem function?

It's still possible that we'll find more snake species in North American prairies, but we've surely discovered nearly all of them. This one is a juvenile eastern racer (Coluber constrictor) in TNC's Platte River Prairies, Nebraska.
It’s possible that we’ll find more snake species in North American prairies, but we’ve surely discovered nearly all of them. This one is a juvenile eastern racer (Coluber constrictor) in TNC’s Platte River Prairies, Nebraska.

We need to discover more species and understand the basics of their life histories, but there are some other really big prairie questions out there that need attention as well.  I thought I’d share a few of the ones I think are most important.  I’m hoping you’ll find them thought-provoking and join me in trying to chip away at them.  We’re not going to answer any of them in the near future, but more people thinking about them and making careful observations will speed us more quickly along the path.  Because each question takes some explaining, I’ll just deal with one here and cover the others in future posts.

Big Question #1:  How big and connected does a prairie landscape need to be to support the majority of prairie species and essential natural processes?

This one has bothered me for a long time because not knowing the answer prevents us from setting reasonable goals for landscape-scale conservation efforts.  As prairie landscapes get carved up by rowcrop agriculture (e.g., the Dakotas), how do we know how much fragmentation will be catastrophic to the ecosystem?  On the flip side, in landscapes that were carved up long ago, what size prairie restoration projects should we aim for to truly restore sustainable prairie ecosystems?

We know that some prairie species require large patches of habitat.  Based on quite a bit of research on birds, we can make reasonable guesses about the size of prairie landscape needed to maintain populations of most bird species.  I’m not completely up to date on this research topic, but I think it’s fair to say that if you had a couple thousand acres of prairie and managed it for a diversity of habitat structure, you’d see most of the grassland bird species in your region show up to nest.  To ensure that those populations were large enough to survive tough years, it’d be nice to have more like 5,000 or 10,000 acres.  Depending upon where you live, that might sound like an impossibly big number or a very manageable one (Illinois doesn’t even have 10,000 acres of remnant prairie in the state, while 10,000 acres is pretty small for a ranch in the 12 million acre Nebraska Sandhills).

Uplan
Upland sandpipers are found most often in larger prairies, especially those with relatively short vegetation.

Assuming that 10,000 acres is a comfortably large prairie for grassland birds, you might think we could just use that as a benchmark for other species as well.  Unfortunately, there are a number of problems with that assumption, many of which I laid out in an earlier post.  One big problem is that bird habitat (quantified largely by factors like vegetation structure and insect abundance) is not necessarily quality habitat for pollinators, ants, or many other species that rely on high plant diversity.  Each of those other species has particular needs, both for habitat size and habitat quality.

A few species (bison? prairie dogs? others?) might need considerably more than 10,000 acres to support a viable population.  However, many other species probably need considerably fewer.   In fact, 10,000 acres might seem like an entire universe to many invertebrate species – although the more we learn about insect migrations, the more complicated that picture becomes.  Is 10,000 acres enough to provide for the vast majority of prairie species?  Maybe.  We really don’t know.

Green darners, and many other dragonfly species, migrate long distances. So do a number of moths and butterflies. Other invertebrates can also travel long distances. Does that make them more or less reliant on large prairie blocks?
Green darners, and many other dragonfly species, migrate long distances. So do a number of moths and butterflies. Other invertebrates can also travel long distances. Does that make them more or less reliant on large prairie blocks?

Regardless of whether or not it’s big enough to sustain populations, we know that restoring and/or preserving a single 10,000 acre block of prairie somewhere in the central United States would not be sufficient to conserve all prairie species.  In order to preserve genetic health and allow populations to recover from catastrophic events, species need multiple habitats in multiple locations.  They also need connectivity between those habitats so that individuals can move between populations.  So, we will need multiple examples of large prairie blocks in every region of the country, with smaller prairies around and between them.  (Questions about what constitutes connectivity and how much connectivity each species needs are also big important questions, but before we address those, we first need to know how large individual habitat blocks need to be.)

Why is this so important?  I’ll give you two real world examples.  First, think about a prairie landscape that has been relatively intact for thousands of years, but is now becoming fragmented by a rapid increase in new rowcrop agriculture.  This is a situation all too familiar to conservationists in the Dakotas, where millions of acres of prairie have been converted to rowcrops over the last couple of decades.  As those conservationists struggle to protect remaining prairie through conservation easements and other strategies, they are doing so with limited time and money.  Knowing what size a prairie block needs to be to sustain species and ecosystem processes would be tremendously helpful.

Let’s say an organization obtains a conservation easement that prevents 5,000 acres from being farmed.  Should they prioritize obtaining an additional easement next to it so that if everything else in the county gets farmed up, there will still be a 10,000 acre block of prairie remaining?  What if they have to pay double the price to obtain that second easement?  Is it worthwhile?  Or should they spend the same amount of money on two more 5,000 acre easements in other locations?  Not knowing the answer to what seems a pretty basic question makes it really difficult to know how to proceed.

My second example is at the other end of the spectrum.  There are a number of large scale prairie restoration efforts going on around North America, where thousands of acres of cropland are being restored to high-diversity prairie communities.  The best of those start with a number of unplowed prairie fragments and enlarge and reconnect those through restoration. The complexes of interconnected remnant and restored grassland they build are many thousands of acres in size.  The Nature Conservancy’s Glacial Ridge project in Minnesota, Nachusa Grasslands in Illinois, and Kankakee Sands project in Indiana are all great examples of this, as is the US Forest Service’s Midewin Tallgrass Prairie in Illinois.

We have proven that we can rebuild prairie landscapes of 10,000 acres and larger.  The sites look good, with beautiful plant communities and abundant wildlife, but are they big enough to sustain that biological diversity?  Should those sites be spending $15,000 per acre to buy high-priced cropland around their borders and increase the size of their restoration projects? Or should they invest those funds in invasive species control and other management needs to protect the investment they’ve already made?

Unfortunately, the answers to these fairly simple questions are not going to be simple to obtain.  We and others have taken a few baby steps by comparing the diversity and abundance of invertebrate species among prairie fragments of varying sizes and degrees of isolation, but we’re just getting started.  I think a better approach would be a large collaborative project that focuses on some of our largest, most intact prairie landscapes such as the Sandhills of Nebraska and the Flint Hills of Kansas and Oklahoma.  Studying how populations and ecosystem processes differ between core areas of those landscapes and the fragmented edges would be an excellent start.  We could learn which species might be most vulnerable to the negative impacts of fragmentation, and then focus on those species through additional research looking at how they are doing in prairies of varying sizes across their ranges.

We can learn a lot by studying how species do in the core versus the ragged edges of huge intact prairie landscapes like the Nebraska Sandhills.
We can learn a lot by studying how species do in the core versus the ragged edges of huge intact prairie landscapes like the Nebraska Sandhills.

I’ve planted this idea with quite a few people, but nothing has really taken off yet.  I’m not giving up.  This is too important.  Does anyone have a couple million dollars to spend answering one of the most pressing conservation questions of our time?

Here are a couple other examples of big research questions I think about.  I’ll address them in more detail in future posts.

1. How effective is prairie restoration (converting cropfield to high-diversity prairie plant communities) at defragmenting prairie landscapes?  Do populations of plants, insects, and wildlife in small prairie fragments grow larger and more interconnected when surrounding cropland is converted to prairie?  What are the key ecosystem components that need to be restored in order for that to happen?

2. How do prairie species respond to fire and grazing management patches, and how should that affect the scale and frequency of those management treatments?  What happens to a vole or other creature living in the unburned patch of a prairie when that patch burns?  Can it travel to other suitable habitat?  How does it know where to go?  What kinds of habitat can it cross and how far can it travel?

3. How does plant diversity influence the productivity and sustainability of grasslands, especially in ways that directly influence agricultural production?  Why should a rancher care about the plant diversity of his/her pasture?  Are there demonstrable increases in soil health, pollination services, forage productivity, forage selection, etc., and are those strong enough that a rancher would trade slightly lower annual income for them?

 

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

 

Ruminations on Tree Planting and Prairie Conservation

Trees are great, but trees in and around prairies can negatively impact habitat quality for many grassland plant and animal species and provide points of introduction for invasive species.  Encroachment by trees has become a major threat to prairie conservation in many landscapes.  

A few months ago, I cut across the courthouse lawn on my way home from the office (I was walking – it’s a small town).  On the west side of the courthouse, there are a number of statues and other monuments memorializing veterans of various wars.  In the midst of those, however, is a very different kind of memorial (pictured below).  This plaque-on-concrete memorial got me thinking – yet again – about our relationships with trees, our desire to plant and care for them, and how that affects our former, current, and future relationship with prairie.

We love trees so much, we use them to memorialize important events and people in our lives.  Sometimes, we then create memorials to honor people who plant trees!
We love trees so much, we use them to memorialize important events and people in our lives. Sometimes, we even create memorials to honor the trees and the people who planted them!

I live in Nebraska, home of Arbor Day.  Early European settlers of Nebraska were enthusiastic tree planters for both practical and aesthetic reasons; our legislature even designated us as “The Tree Planters State” back in 1895.  There were good reason for all that tree planting.  It’s certainly nice to have shade around one’s house and yard, and a grove of trees provides a valuable shield from strong winter winds for both homes and livestock.  In addition, early settlers found the open prairie lacked adequate wood for fuel and building materials.  However, despite the numerous practical uses for trees, I think most tree planting was and is done primarily as a way to make the landscape more visually appealing.  People just like trees.

This brings me to my contemplation of tree planting and prairie conservation.  Research has shown that when given a choice, people seem most attracted to the aesthetics of a savanna-like landscape – one with scattered trees and short grass.  That mindset is evident in the way we design our yards and parks.  Not only do we enjoy having trees, we really like to plant them ourselves.  We gain immense satisfaction from the simple act of digging a hole and plopping a seed or small seedling in the ground, knowing that we and future generations will be able to watch that tree grow skyward.  The trees we plant often become almost family members in the way we celebrate their growth and mark time by how big the trees were when such and such happened.

The landscaping around the Hamilton County, Nebraska courthouse (where the above plaque is located) is a great example of the kind of scattered trees/short vegetation landscape humans find aesthetically appealing.
The landscaping around the Hamilton County, Nebraska courthouse (where the above plaque is located) is a great example of the kind of scattered trees/short vegetation landscape humans find aesthetically appealing.

This brings up two issues for those of us working to conserve prairies.  First, we’re starting from a handicapped position when we advocate for prairie conservation because prairies are not what most people visualize when they think of natural beauty.  Given the choice between a treeless grassland and a park-like landscape dotted with trees, most people would choose the wooded park as a site to photograph, hike or picnic, or build a house.  In fact, there are countless examples in which people buy a small patch of prairie for a recreational property and immediately plant numerous trees to make it “look nicer.”  We really haven’t changed much from our European settler predecessors in that regard.

Second, we haven’t yet found a prairie-related analog to tree planting; a simple activity that creates something people can take ownership of, love and nurture.  Planting trees is so easy a child can do it, and with very little investment of time or money, someone can establish a couple trees that become treasured landmarks or memorials – – which further reinforces people’s love of trees and wooded areas.  In contrast, planting prairies is fairly complicated and requires more space.  It also takes a few years for a planting to grow out of its weedy phase and start to look like a prairie.  Prairie planting can certainly be rewarding, but it’s not nearly as simple, accessible, and instantly gratifying as tree planting.

Many people find wide expanses of open prairie impressive, but not alluring.  How do we get people to care about and nurture landscapes and ecosystems they have to work to appreciate?
Many people find wide expanses of open prairie impressive but not alluring. How do we get people to care about and nurture landscapes and ecosystems they have to work to appreciate?

So how can we help people connect with prairies in the same way they connect with trees and wooded landscapes?  I don’t have all the answers, but here are a few ideas.

1) We need to encourage more people to spend time in prairies and make sure they enjoy themselves when they go. It can be a definite challenge to convince someone to take a walk in a prairie.  Even worse, when people do step foot in a prairie, many are unimpressed because they don’t really know what to look for or how to appreciate what they’re seeing.  As a result, they often walk away with an even less favorable opinion than before they came.  “It was just a lot of grass!  And I was pulling ticks off myself all night!”

A good naturalist and interpreter can lead someone on their first prairie excursion and make it a positive and thought-provoking experience.  There is no substitute for the expertise and enthusiasm of a good leader, but there aren’t enough of those people to go around.  Several Nebraska Master Naturalists approached me last year with an idea to create a “Prairie Exploration Guide” – a pamphlet/booklet designed to help newcomers to prairie see the beauty and complexity they might otherwise miss.  The guide is still in the development stage, but I have high hopes that it will be a useful tool when it’s done.

2) Using native prairie plants in landscaping is becoming increasingly popular. The public’s concern over population declines of bees and monarch butterflies is helping to spur the movement, as are issues such as water conservation.  There is no question that getting the public to buy, plant, and appreciate native prairie plants in their backyards is a major step toward building a prairie conservation constituency – and backyard prairie gardens also make real conservation contributions on their own.  Significant obstacles still hinder the movement, especially our cultural norms about what yards and gardens are “supposed” to look like, but I am optimistic about the future.

3) One successful method for engaging people in prairie conservation at our Platte River Prairies has been through seed harvesting. People identify with both the value of seeds and the idea of restoring lost habitats.  Harvesting seed is a tangible way people can contribute toward something important; they can measure that contribution by the amount of seed piling up in their buckets.  Ideally, harvesters come back and help plant the seed they picked, and then visit regularly to watch the prairie planting develop over time.

I hope that helping me harvest and plant seeds at our family prairie will help my kids develop a love for grasslands.
I hope that helping to harvest and plant seeds at our family prairie will help my kids develop a love for grasslands.

Along those lines, one of the most inspired strategies I’ve seen to engage people in prairie restoration was being done by Wayne Pauly in Dane County, Wisconsin.  I went on a tour of some of his prairie restorations back in 2004 and was very impressed with both his plantings and his involvement of volunteers. Most particularly I liked Wayne’s strategy of having volunteers “paint the prairie” with seeds during prairie plantings.  He’d give each volunteer a bucket of seeds of one prairie wildflower species and let them decide how and where to plant those seeds – allowing them to create a pattern or design of their choice (thus the idea of “painting”).  That is a brilliant idea, and one that should not only be fun on planting day, but should also draw those volunteers back in subsequent years to view the results of their work.

Humans have a long and strong relationship with trees, one that is likely embedded within our DNA.  Tree planting is an easy, accessible, and tangible way to contribute something to the natural world.  Unfortunately, tree planting doesn’t do anything to help prairies, and can sometimes be counterproductive if trees are planted in or near open grassland.  If prairie conservation is to succeed, we need to get the public excited about grasslands and combat the perception that prairies would look a lot prettier if they just had some trees growing in them.  More importantly, we need more strategies that actively connect people with prairies and give them the same sense of fulfilment they get from planting trees.  I think we’re getting better, but we have a long way to go.

What I Look For When I Walk Through My Prairies

Back in August, I posted some questions to readers about what they look for when evaluating their own prairies.  I got some excellent responses, which I really appreciated.  If you missed them, you can re-read that post and those comments here.

Walking around a prairie and getting a read on what's happening is probably the most important part of prairie management.  This is Scott Moats, The Nature Conservancy's Broken Kettle Grasslands, Iowa.
Walking around a prairie and getting a read on what’s happening is probably the most important part of prairie management. Scott Moats, The Nature Conservancy’s Broken Kettle Grasslands, Iowa.

As a follow up to that, here is more detail about what I think about as I walk around my family prairie, or one of our Platte River Prairies.  Of course, sometimes I just hike around and enjoy the day, but this post is about what I focus on when I’m evaluating our management and considering ideas for next steps.  We collect some relatively formal data on some sites, but most of our management decisions are really based on the kind of observation and evaluation I lay out here.  I’m certainly not trying to talk you into doing exactly what I’m doing – especially because what I look for is tied to my particular objectives, not yours.  Instead, I’m hoping that I might spark some ideas you can incorporate into your own decision making processes.

To start with, the basic objective at both my own prairie and those I help manage professionally is the same.  I want to provide a shifting mosaic of habitat structure patches (short, tall, mixed-height, etc.) so that the quilt pattern of those patches looks different each year.  I assume that a dynamic management regime like that will support high plant diversity because it doesn’t allow static conditions that allow a few plant species to become dominant.  I also assume that those shifting habitat patches will facilitate a healthy community of insects, birds, mammals, reptiles, and other life – above and below ground.  These are not blind assumptions; they are based on my own experience and research, along with that of many others.  (You can read more about those assumptions here.)

Grazing can create very important habitat structure such as this short grass/tall forb habitat at our Platte River Prairies.
Grazing can create very important habitat structure, including this short grass/tall forb habitat at our Platte River Prairies.  This habitat allows for easy movement along the ground, but provides plenty of overhead cover as protection from predators and the hot sun.

Not surprisingly, the first thing I look for, then, as I walk around a prairie is the pattern of habitat structure.  I hope to find the full range of variation, from tall and dense vegetation to almost bare ground.  Even more importantly, I want to see some of the important intermediate habitat types – especially short-cropped grass with tall forbs (wildflowers), which is incredibly important for many wildlife and insect species.  If I can find all of those habitat types, and they’re in different places than they were last year, I feel pretty good.

Next, I look at the plant community.  Plant diversity is an important foundation for invertebrate and wildlife diversity, so I want to see a rich diversity of plants as I walk around.  I also want to see that diversity at both large and small scales.  Across the whole prairie, I’d hope to find at least 100-200 plant species (though I certainly don’t count them every time) but I should also be able to count at least 10-15 plant species within arms’ reach if I kneel on the ground.  These numbers vary, of course, based on geography, soil type, etc., so they may or may not be reasonable at your particular site.

As I look at plant diversity, I want to see habitat patches with an abundance of “opportunistic” plants.  These are species that thrive in the absence of competition.  Depending upon your point of view, you might also call them “colonizers” or even “weeds”, but when they are abundant, it means that nearby dominant plants have been weakened.  We try to periodically knock back the vigor of dominant plants (especially grasses) through fire, grazing or mowing, to help less dominant plants maintain a foothold in the plant community.  A flush of opportunistic plants is an indicator of success because it shows that we successfully opened up that space and other plants are taking advantage of it – and not just the weedy ones.  Finding seed heads, and even new seedlings, of slower-to-colonize plant species (purple prairie clover, entire-leaf rosinweed, leadplant, etc.) within those weedy patches makes me feel even better.

Black-eyed susan  is a showy example of an opportunistic plant species that thrives when surrounding vegetation is weakened.  Other species I look for include ragweeds, hoary vervain, annual sunflowers, ironweed, ragwort, annual thistles, and many others.
Black-eyed susan is a showy example of an opportunistic plant species that thrives when surrounding vegetation is weakened. Other  opportunists I look for include ragweeds, hoary vervain, annual sunflowers, ironweed, ragwort, annual thistles, and many others.

In sites where cattle are present, I spend time looking at what they’re eating and not eating, as well as which parts of the prairie are being grazed most and least.  In our patch-burn grazed prairies, we expect most grazing to take place in recently-burned areas, so I check to see if that’s happening.  Often, cattle target their favorite grass species first and then graze wildflowers only if they’ve already eaten the best parts of those grasses.  If I see something other than that pattern, it can tell me a lot about our stocking rate or other issues – not necessarily in a bad way.  There are also a few plant species that our cattle can’t seem to resist (some milkweeds, rosinweed, Canada milkvetch, and spiderworts) and we like to make sure those species get a release from grazing pressure every few years.  As a result, I pay special attention to whether or not – and how intensively – those plants are being grazed.  If I notice that they haven’t been allowed to grow and bloom for a few years, it’s time to change up our management and give them a rest.

The other group of plant species I look closely at is invasive species.  At our sites, invasive grasses such as smooth brome, Kentucky bluegrass, tall fescue, and others get special attention because of their ability to form monocultures, but there are plenty of others to watch as well.  I look not only at the current abundance and density of invasive plants, but also compare what I’m seeing to previous years to see how things are changing.  Finally, I pay attention to whether or not there are conditions that appear to be giving invaders an advantage.  For example, it would be important to know if cattle are grazing all the plants EXCEPT those invaders, allowing them to encroach upon weakened competition.

Siberian elm trees are a major pest in our prairies, and one we track closely and try to keep up with.
Siberian elm trees are a major pest in our prairies, and we have to be careful not to fall too far behind in our control efforts.

Field notes and photos are really helpful when trying to decide whether populations of invasive species are expanding or not.  They can also be helpful when comparing grazing impacts, responses from opportunistic plants, and other interesting phenomena.  I sometimes flip back to last year’s notes while I’m in the field to see if there’s anything I saw then that I should pay attention to.  Then, when I periodically enter my field notes into the computer, I can look at all the notes from other years and look for patterns.  I don’t take extensive field notes, but try to write enough to be useful.  (See here for more on field notes).

As I continue to learn more about the way various animal and invertebrate species see and utilize prairie habitat, I’ve gotten better at looking our prairies through the eyes of those species.  I wrote about wearing “bee goggles” a while ago, but I also try to step back and think about what life would be like in our prairies if I was a grasshopper, mouse, coyote, or other species.  Could I find food all year round?  Are there places to feed/hunt or hide/escape?  If the habitat I’m living in changed dramatically because of fire or grazing, would I be able to find and travel to other habitat nearby?  It’s a really interesting exercise, and helps me think about habitat needs in new ways.

Looking at a prairie through (cute!) eyes of bees or other species is a great way to broaden your perspective.
Looking at a prairie through the eyes of bees or other species is a great way to broaden your perspective.

Finally, I try to look across the fences and note what is happening on neighboring lands.  In some cases, the prairie I’m walking in is the only real prairie habitat in the neighborhood, so it really needs to provide everything for every species living in it.  In other cases, there is more grassland habitat nearby, and I can think about how our prairie can help supplement and complement what’s available in those other sites.  For example, if all the neighbors graze pretty intensively, I might prioritize tall vegetation structure a little more than if that was the predominant habitat in the neighborhood.

So there you go – a quick look inside my head, for what that’s worth.  As I said at the beginning, what you look for should be tied to your objectives, but I also enjoy tagging along when other prairie managers walk their sites because I learn a lot from how they think.  I’d love to hear how similar or different my thought processes are from yours.

Photo of the Week – December 4, 2014

When I photograph small creatures, I often try to position myself so I can look right into their eyes.  I like face-to-face images because they feel very personal.  One of the most important catalysts of conservation is the personal connection people feel with nature and the species we share the planet with.  It’s one thing to see a caterpillar from a distance, but when you look into its eyes…  well, they’re just so darn cute!  It’s a lot harder to step on something or plow up its habitat once you’ve met it face to face.

One of the most charismatic species I know is the snapping turtle.  It’s not hard to photograph a snapper in  way that evokes personality and character.  Here’s a photo of a small snapping turtle we found earlier this year while exploring one of restored wetlands.  We picked it up for just a minute to examine it more closely.  Before I set it down, I took this portrait.

A small snapping turtle.  The Nature Conservancy's Platte River Prairies.
A small snapping turtle. The Nature Conservancy’s Platte River Prairies.

In case you missed it a few years ago, here is a link to a previous post about a snapping turtle that was causing consternation among the cattle at our family prairie.  That one had some character as well…

On a somewhat related topic, I’m starting to put together my annual “Best Of” slide show of photos from 2014, just as I did in 2013 and 2012.  If there are any photos from this year’s posts you want to lobby for, feel free to do so in the comments section of this post.  Otherwise, I’ll just choose my personal favorites.