Waiting for the Ecosystem

We share something - we who are bogged down by contagion - and we who are passionate about biodiversity restoration:

We share the agony of waiting.

Hurry, summer!

Compare August 13, 2018 - above - to the same spot, below, March 21, 2020.

Now, after two more years of restoration, how different will this spot be when August rolls around?

Beneath the two bur oaks above, August 2020 will almost certainly turn out to look much like August 2018. With stable conservative spring and summer species down beneath, woodland sunflower (Helianthus strumosus) steals the visual show in summer. Data from nearby, after three decades of restoration, shows only slow changes. (On the other hand, the second most visible species in the photo, purple Joe Pye weed (Eupatorium purpureum), is susceptible to excessive deer browse. Deer seem to be increasing dramatically. That one may go.)

But very different expectations accompany the next two photos. As medics of ecosystems, we stewards recognize different symptoms when we see them. The area below is changing fast; conservative stability is decades away, if it's in the cards at all.

Thus - this next photo (June 17, 2018) - from just fifty yards away - also looks colorful and rich. But here these species may be only temporary.

You can get a sense of the setting from the previous August photo: this spot is visible as the "half-sun" slope behind the old oak on the right. ) is at a whole different stage of restoration. Under the old oaks in the previous photos, with plentiful oak leaf fuel, burns are regular, and in response the plant community has been relatively stable for years.

But this second, sunnier spot has the challenge of "intermediate light levels" - not sunny enough for prairie grasses, not enough covered by oaks for a functional layer of oak leaf fuel. Thus, when the site burns, this low-fuel area flames up only occasionally or rarely.

What do the plants here tell us?

Wild columbine (Aquilegia canadensis) is described in Swink and Wilhelm as species with "a considerable range of habitats, but is almost always in shade and rarely in disturbed, weedy, or grassy places." This quality plant is original to Somme Prairie Grove - often in intermediate light, moving from place to place, as its habitats do, as trees grow or die or burn in more intense fires, and the woody build-up waits for more extreme conditions to ignite. Columbine's habitats as listed in Swink and Wilhelm include rich dune woods, black oak savannas, mesic deciduous forests, calcareous fens, and cracks in the shaded, vertical sides of limestone cliffs. No mention of rich mesic bur oak savannas, as here at Somme, probably because they barely exist.

The other two species blooming above are foxglove beardtongue (Penstemon digitalis) and Ohio spiderwort (Tradescantia ohiensis), also always frequent on this site. All three of these species are listed as growing sometimes in prairies and sometimes in woods, the latter two in more disturbed situations. Indeed, all three seem to decline where Somme's woods and prairies are recovering substantial quality. Will they find permeant place in the intermediate areas?

Other somewhat conservative species are visible by leaves in this photo: wood betony (Pedicularis canadensis), showy goldenrod (Solidago speciosa), and wild quinine (Parthenium integrifolium). This area was once dense with the weedy tall goldenrod, and diverse treasures seem to have recently been replacing it. But in other such areas, the decline of tall goldenrod has gradually given way to aggressive woodland sunflowers, seemingly replacing most other vegetation.

Areas of intermediate light levels have been a challenge for us. Are they adapted to infrequent fire and thus naturally have frequent changes in plant composition? Or are there intermediate-light species (especially sedges and grasses that could make good fuel) that will move this area toward frequent fire and sustainable diversity? Perhaps the woodland sunflower (H. strumosus) or hispid sunflower (Helianthus hirsutus) (or their hybrids) will soon heavily dominate here. Will that lead to a diminution of biodiversity or a step towards recovery? Or both? Or neither? If we were to hurry up and broadcast plentiful seed of the right conservative grasses and sedges here, would sustainable diversity increase, as it has seemed to in other areas?

There's no clue in the companion photo, below, from March 21, 2020.

We await, but not only. We also do. We experiment, and we monitor.

But the waiting is a necessary component, and its agony is anxious and delicious at once. Perhaps invasives or aggressives will blot out the progress and the good. Or perhaps richness and beauty shall overcome. With keen anticipation we await the vegetation here in summer 2020.

Then, two final photos for this post: in this case from August 13, 2018 and April 8, 2020.

Here, the issues are much clearer. This pair may reassure readers that all is not confusingly iffy in the world of biodiversity conservation. Much is known and clear.

More recently freed from dense brush, this area is now open enough for prairie vegetation. The riot of color in August suggests diversity, but recovery is still at an early stage. Yet we've seen such areas progress consistently towards rich health. We can be reasonably confident that we'll see it here too.

Apparently on the border between wet-mesic and mesic, the species in bloom above are cowbane (Oxypolis rigidior), spotted Joe Pye weed (Eupatorium maculatum), sweet black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia subtomentosa), and Virginia mountain mint (Pycnantheum virginianum). Beautiful and rich, but typical of a good young restoration.

This is the same spot on April 8, 2020, greening up. The ecosystem is emerging.
There will be surprises - but not of the "success or failure" variety.
Instead the ecosystem will tell us which combinations of classy plants and animals will win out here. A nearby area that seems to have similar soils began its restoration earlier. There went find eared false foxglove (Tomanthera auriculata), fringed gentian (Gentiana crinita), yellow stargrass (Hypoxis hirsuta), prairie gentian (Gentiana puberulenta), prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis), and prairie clover (Petalostemum purpureum).
Orchard orioles, red-headed woodpeckers, and great spangled fritillaries already thrive here.
Life is good.
Come, spring! Come, summer! Come, fall!

Note that the first two post-burn photos were from March 21.
Just black earth. All waiting.
The above photo, from eighteen days later, shows the green of 2020 taking over. Waiting works.

Question for readers of this blog:
Some people have asked for scientific names. Some people say they just take up space and are easily looked up, if we give a reference. (In this post, the names are from Swink and Wilhelm, Plants of the Chicago Region.)

Updated terminology:
Christos Economou in his edits pointed out changed Wilhelm and Rericha names for four of the species above. These are:

Purple prairie clover (Petalostemum purpureum) = Dalea purpurea

Spotted Joe Pye weed (Eupatorium maculatum) = Eutrochium maculatum

Purple Joe Pye weed (Eupatorium maculatum) = Eutrochium purpureum

Fringed gentian (Gentiana crinita) = Gentianopsis crinita

I'm sorry to say that I haven't yet mastered the new names. 

Thanks for proofing and edits to:
Kathy Garness, Christos Economou, and Eriko Kojima.