A Closer Look at Prairie Roots

One of the biggest jobs of a prairie steward is to manage the competition between plants, ensuring that no species becomes too dominant and no species is pushed out of the community.  In our prairies, much of our effort is directed toward some of the stronger grass species, including big bluestem, indiangrass, smooth brome, and Kentucky bluegrass.  Left unchecked, those grasses (and a few others) can monopolize both light and soil resources and reduce plant diversity.  Our management targets those grasses with fire and grazing, often using season-long defoliation by cattle or bison to weaken the competitive ability of those grasses, opening up space and resources for other plants to flourish.  Our long-term plant data show that we’ve been able to maintain species richness and a full complement of plant species with this kind of management.

When those major grasses are weakened, one of the most obvious responses is a flush of “weedy” vegetation that quickly takes advantage of the soil and light resources that have become available.  Research has shown that growing season defoliation temporarily causes grasses to abandon some of their roots (until defoliation stops and the grasses recover), opening up space for nearby plants to grow larger and more abundant.  However, there are still many questions about the actual physical responses of grass roots to defoliation, and gaining a better understanding of that could be really important to prairie managers.  Researchers at Kansas State University are actively working on those questions right now.  Dr. Jesse Nippert, in particular, has done a lot of work on this subject, including some work on prairie shrubs that I wrote about a few years ago.

Last week, a couple of Jesse’s graduate students, Seton Bachle and Marissa Zaricor, were at our Platte River Prairies, collecting data on roots under grazed and ungrazed conditions.  In addition, Seton brought along a nifty tool called an air spade, which uses compressed air to dig into prairie soil with enough force to expel soil particles, but not so much that it tears apart the roots of plants (with the exception of the tiny rootlets at the tips).  Seton and I started talking about a year ago about the possibility of getting the air spade up here so we can look for visual evidence of grazing impacts to roots.  Marissa and Seton are both doing very in-depth (ha!) measurements of plant root responses, but I also wanted to see what’s those roots really look like.  The air spade seemed like a great way to do that.

Here is our sampling area, as seen by our drone. The bottom right portion was burned this spring and has been grazed fairly intensively since. The top left portion is unburned and has had very little grazing pressure.
Dust erupts out of the ground as Seton excavates with the air spade.

For this initial trial, we chose a part of the prairie that was burned this spring and was being grazed intensively by cattle as part of our patch-burn grazing management.  Abundant rain this year has meant that the cattle aren’t keeping the grasses as short as we’d really like, but we were still able to find some big bluestem plants that have been cropped pretty short.  As a comparison, we went across the burn line to part of the prairie that hasn’t had much grazing pressure in recent years and, because it is unburned, hasn’t had much attention from cattle this year either.  As a result, we were (ok, Seton was) able to excavate around the roots of big bluestem plants that had been grazed off to just a few inches of leaf height, as well as ungrazed plants with leaves around 12 inches high.

Here is the excavation spot in the burned/grazed patch.
Here is the unburned/ungrazed excavation site.

As Seton started blowing soil away from the roots (and I photographed the process with my camera and our drone), one of the first things that became obvious was the relatively shallow depth of the main root mass.  The work of J.E. Weaver and others has shown that prairie plants, including grasses, have some very deep roots.  However, more recent work, including that of Jesse Nippert of Kansas State, Dave Wedin at the University of Nebraska, and others, has shown that those grasses don’t appear to actually use those deep roots for much.  In fact, grasses tend to concentrate the vast majority of their root masses in the top foot or so of the soil profile, effectively monopolizing most of the moisture and nutrients there.  Forbs tend to pull most of their resources from below that, and shrubs work at even greater depths.  I’ll write about this more in a future post, but for now, just trust me when I say that this is abundant evidence for this (and many more questions being pursued).  Prairie grasses can have deep roots, but it’s the incredible root density at shallow depths that they most rely on, even during drought.

With the air spade, we could pretty easily see that most of the big bluestem roots were in that shallow depth, and only a few extended down below that.  However, as Seton pulled out fully-excavated clumps of big bluestem shoots and roots, my initial reaction was one of disappointment.  There didn’t seem to be any obvious difference in the density of roots or size of the overall root mass between the grazed and ungrazed plants.

Marissa and Seton examine the roots in the partially excavated grazed site.
Seton examines some of the roots dug out of the burned/grazed site.

My immediate thought was that because these plants had only been exposed to grazing for about a month, maybe there hadn’t been enough time to see changes in their root masses.  In addition, it might be that some of the roots were no longer active, but were still connected to the root mass for now.  We’ll be repeating this excavation process later in the season, and might see differences then that aren’t yet obvious.  In addition, we’ll look at some roots of grasses that were heavily grazed all of last season and see what those look like.  Still, I was a little disappointed not to see a bigger visual difference.

However, when Seton and Marissa looked at the roots, they pointed out something I hadn’t initially seen because I was so focused on root length and density.  The diameter of most of the roots of the ungrazed bluestem appeared to be considerably larger than those of the grazed plants.  We were working with a small sample size, but among all the plants we dug up, that size difference seemed to be pretty consistent.

An ungrazed clump of big bluestem on the left and grazed on the right.  You can’t see the length of all the roots in this image (they were similar between plants) but the ungrazed roots are noticeably thicker than the roots of the grazed plant.
Here’s another look at the difference in root thickness between the grazed plants (top) and ungrazed (bottom).

Marissa explained that thicker roots have more carbohydrates stored in them.  Plants that have been defoliated, and are trying to regrow shoots, have to pull carbohydrates from their reserves to do so – pulling them out of their roots and putting them into aboveground growth.  Whether those roots kind of deflate as the carbohydrates are pulled from them or stressed plants just create skinnier roots is something Marissa and Seton are hoping to learn from their work.  Regardless, carbohydrate storage plays into competitive ability.  Grasses rely on their storage capacity to fuel growth and withstand further stress, so differences in root diameter could be part of the answer to why grazed grasses are less competitive.  Seton and Marissa plan to examine some cross sections of the roots we dug up to see if they can see more under a microscope than we could by just looking at the roots with our naked eye.

Seton and Marissa’s actual scientific explorations will give us much better answers to questions about grazing impacts on grass roots than simply looking at a few samples, but it was fun to see the actual roots themselves.  While the differences between grazed and ungrazed plants weren’t as stark as I’d expected, I’m still looking forward to our next effort later this summer – especially because all I have to do is photograph the results of the hard work Marissa and Seton are doing!

If you’re interested, here is a short 1 minute drone video showing the excavation process.  You can also check out Seton’s science website here.

Special thank you to the Nebraska Environmental Trust for funding our drone purchase through a PIE (Public Information and Education) minigrant, administered through the Nebraska Academy of Sciences.

Watching the Sandhills Bounce Back at the Niobrara Valley Preserve

I took our Hubbard Fellows up to the Niobrara Valley Preserve in north-central Nebraska last week.  While we were there, I spent quite a bit of time in the east bison pasture, where the recovery of prairie plants from last year’s summer wildfire was in full swing.

sunflowers and grass
Prairie grasses such as sand bluestem (front left) and many others were growing well across the bison pasture during the first growing season since last July’s wildfire.

The lush green growth was in strong contrast to the burned prairie’s appearance back in late April when only a few sedges and yucca looked alive – and both were being cropped short by hungry bison.

April 23
These sedges were about the only green in the bison pasture on April 23 of this year.  Since the bison were mainly eating brown grass and hay all winter, anything green was pretty attractive.

We knew the prairie would survive the fire, but it was still good to see the quick strong growth after some nice rains this spring.  The Preserve staff reduced the size of the east bison herd last year because more than 90% of the bison pasture had burned.  The biggest concern was getting the bison through the winter with very little residual grass available to eat.  With the help of a little fall growth and some supplemental hay, the bison survived just fine.

bison
The bison are enjoying having a wide selection of green plants to choose from after a long winter of sparse brown grass.

The drought and wildfire definitely weakened the vigor of perennial plants in the prairie, and there is a flush of annuals and other short-lived plants taking advantage of that this year.  Species such as goosefoot (an annual Chenopodium species), annual sunflower (Helianthus petiolaris) and six-weeks fescue (Vulpia octoflora) are abundant throughout the grassland.  At the same time, however, perennial plants such as prairie wild rose (Rosa arkansana), spiderwort (Tradescantia occidentalis), cutleaf ironplant (Haploppus spinulosus), and many more are having a great year too.

wildflowers
Flower species such as cutleaf ironplant (left) and spiderwort (right) are coloring the sandhills in the burned bison pasture.

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flowers
Goosefoot (the tall skinny light blue plants) and other annuals are abundant, but so are perennials such as wild rose (pink) and hairy puccoon (yellow).

Besides the bison, we saw numerous other creatures throughout the prairie.  I wandered through the area where I’d seen sharp-tailed grouse displaying back in May, and flushed up a couple birds.  Upland sandpipers, western meadowlarks, and lark sparrows were all over the place.  Insects, of course, were easy to find too, including a number of species feeding on the pollen of the ubiquitous flowers.

Gr asshopper nymph
Grasshopper nymph on annual sunflower.

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antlion
Adult antlions were EVERYWHERE during my morning walk in the prairie.  A few were feeding on the pollen of spiderwort flowers.

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fence lizard
A  lesser earless lizard (Holbrookia maculata) near a small sand blowout.

This spring brought a big new batch of bison calves, a testament to the toughness of the females, who were able to get through a hard winter of sparse brown grass and a little hay.  There should be plenty to eat now – not only did the Preserve staff reduce the herd size to about 150 adults after the fire, they also increased the pasture size to about 10,000 acres.  While the prairie grasses are still weak, that light stocking rate should give those plants plenty of opportunity to recover, depending upon the consistency of rainfall during the remainder of the season, of course.  The staff will allow the herd size to grow again over the next few years, aiming for an eventual stocking rate of about 30 acres per animal.

bison calves
This year’s bison calves looked as cute and healthy as always.

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bison bull
The big bulls looked healthy too…

In other news, the extent of erosion on the ridges where the pine woodland burned last year didn’t look any worse than the last time I was there.  In addition to a lot of deciduous trees re-sprouting from their bases, we saw a fair number of oak trees with at least some leaves on last year’s branches – though it’s not clear whether they’ll actually survive long-term or not.  Most importantly, we haven’t yet found any invasive plants moving into those burned woodland areas, which is good.

The burned woodlands will be significantly different – but fine – in the coming years.  The prairies, however, have been able to absorb the impacts of the drought and wildfire without breaking stride.

It’s like they’ve done this before…

Buds in the Spring

Spring is a good time to think about buds.  Most of us are familiar with buds on the branches of trees and shrubs because they’re easy to see – and at this time of year, they begin opening and exposing new leaves and flowers.  Most prairie plants, however start their spring growth from buds at or below the soil surface.

Blossoms and buds of a wild plum. The flower buds have already opened, but the leaf buds are still tightly closed.

Before I go any further, I need to thank Jackie Ott, who provided the background information and photo interpretation for this post.  Jackie is a PhD candidate, and one of a group of researchers at Kansas State University who are working to learn more about the buds of prairie plants and the role those buds play in the ecology of plant populations.  Just as the collective seeds in the soil beneath a prairie is called a “seed bank”, the buds beneath a prairie can be called a “bud bank”.  Jackie and others are trying to find out how those bud banks work, and (among other things) how they help plants and populations respond to stress.  I’ve enjoyed several opportunities to learn about buds from Jackie and her colleagues over the last several years, and will write a future post about some of what they’re learning about bud banks.  In this post, though, I present a short introduction (with photos) on the belowground buds of prairie grasses and wildflowers.

Buds of sand lovegrass (Eragrostis trichodes) - one on the left and two on the right.

Buds are essentially packages of plant tissue full of cells that can divide very quickly.  They are usually protected from moisture, temperature extremes, and other damage by a thick waxy coating.  All of the buds on grasses are located below ground, so all growth comes from there.  When a grass is clipped or grazed off, it just keeps pushing the growth up from the original underground bud.  Forbs start their growth each spring from buds located near or below ground too, but they can also grow “adventitious” buds at any point along their stems.  When a forb is clipped, it can create a new bud near the clipped tip and restart growth from there.  If it is clipped too close to the ground, it may start a new stem from a belowground bud instead of from an adventitious bud.

Western yarrow (Achillea millefolium), showing belowground buds and roots. There is one big bud in the foreground, and another one (very white) in the background.

According to Jackie, more than 90% of the stems you see in a tallgrass prairie each year started as buds, rather than seeds, that spring.  Buds allow the “parent” plant to provide nutrients to the new stem and support its growth – as opposed to a seed, which has a limited supply of food in its endosperm and then is on its own to survive.

Large stacked buds on a violet plant. In this photo you can still see the shape of the bulky buds at the base of each of the existing leaves/stems.

If you dig up a prairie grass or forb, you can easily find the buds around the base of the plant.  Generally, there are multiple buds – each able to grow into a new stem if/when needed.  Those buds represent the ability of that plant to produce new growth each season, but also following a disturbance such as fire, drought, or intensive grazing, that forces the plant to restart its growth mid-season.  The larger collection of buds among all the plants in a prairie represents the prairie’s “bud bank.”  The capacity of that bud bank to respond during stressful conditions is one of the most intriguing parts of what Jackie and her colleagues at Kansas State University are researching.

Buds on a spiderwort (Tradescantia bracteata) rhizome. Rhizomes are underground stems that allow perennial plants to expand their reach by stretching out and growing new aboveground stems at some distance from the parent stem. That new growth, though, still has to come from buds - such as these.

All of the photos in this post were taken in an indoor studio.