Nine Stories. Part 2: Small Group. Mini-backlash. Rise and Fall.

Story 4. A Small Group

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.

Margaret Mead

 

Yet often the most significant people get little credit. At times they prefer it that way, as they can get more done by letting other people shoulder the recognition and burdens of leadership. But leaving out the accomplishments of the most significant people means that history is falsified.

 

When New York Times science reporter William Stevens wrote "Miracle Under the Oaks" - largely about the North Branch Prairie Project - I argued with him repeatedly, opposing his draft's too-narrow focus on me. He said he needed character drama to tell the story for a book that would sell. But his account failed to truly reflect what was happening. (And, indeed, it changed what was happening.)

Multiple committed, mostly young folks from all walks of life built the North Branch Prairie Project. They included Larry and Chris Hodak, Donna Hriljac, Robbie and Ross Sweeny, Pete Baldo, John and Jane Balaban, Laurel Ross, Susanne Masi, Miriam Desmond, and me, and more. We got the best expert advice we could, and soon we were eco-restoration trailblazers, solving new problems - becoming a model for something that would go coast to coast, and in various forms around the world.

In 1978, our work parties numbered from five to ten most weeks.
But sometimes, there were just two or three of us, or as many as thirty. 
We ate lunch together and felt good about our accomplishments and each other - every time. 

That first summer and fall, we collected rare seeds, and learned. Starting in December, we cut brush, conducted burns first with one staff leader, and gradually demonstrated enough competence that within a couple of years we were burning all our sites without needing staff help. All sites, that is, except two within the City of Chicago. Forest Preserve officials didn’t approve burns at Bunker Hill or Sauganash because, they reported, City officials refused permits. No burning would ever be allowed in Chicago, we were told. We continued cutting brush and sowing seed in those preserves, but it seemed hopeless without fire.

 

One day, John Balaban – who taught math at St. Ignatius College Prep – said to the group: “This may be stupid, but one of the Jesuits who teaches with me has a brother who’s a fire captain. Could he help?” We said, go John! and we had the burn permits in a week. This had been all too new for official channels. The permit referenced a street address rather than the Forest Preserve and came from the Department of Consumer Services. But it worked.  

 

That was one of our first lessons in the power of community. Those lessons kept coming.

In 1996, the group changed its name to the North Branch Restoration Project - as we worked to heal not only prairies but also savanna, woodlands, sedge meadows, and ponds. Annually, to prepare seeds for planting, volunteers have come together every fall, for 47 years and counting. 

Next lesson: At one preserve, there was a bad problem with purple loosestrife. This invasive had for decades destroyed hundreds of thousands of acres of animal and plant habitat in eastern states and at that time was increasingly assaulting the Midwest. We were assured by the Illinois Department of Natural Resources that Illinois and other states had appealed to the U.S. Department of Agriculture to import beetles from Europe that would control the loosestrife. But it didn't happen. As time dragged on, we asked if we could help push. “No!” we were told, repeatedly, "Let us do it!" Bureaucrats worry about losing control and about incompetent interference. But we kept checking with the person in charge, and after years of failure after failure, we were told, “Well, okay, see if you can help.”

 

We discussed it. Donna Hriljac happened to be politically active and the principal volunteer coordinator for the biennial re-election campaigns of Congressman Sid Yates, chair of the federal budget committee. Donna approached Yates, referenced the unified support of the region’s conservationists and scientists, and in a month, the program was funded. The imported beetles controlled loosestrife well in some areas, merely reduced it in others, but the power of initiative and advocacy was demonstrated once again.   

 

One day it became clear that our day-to-day brush-and-seeds leaders needed ongoing training. Susanne Masi organized a series of field classes that brought together the best on-the-ground experts, and we learned together. From that experience, she went on to organize a Plants of Concern program through the Chicago Botanic Garden. 

Some of us wrote newsletters or organized social events. Gail Schmoller wrote press releases and courted reporters. Our challenges and victories became regular front-page and TV news. 

  

Soon similar groups were forming around the region, with the help of staff from Nature Conservancy and many forest preserve and park districts. From Europe, South America, Australia, and Asia – people came to study us. Five decades later, some of us were still doing this great work. But to become culture, caring for nature needs renewal from generation to generation. You can see such generous energies in the Peregrines and the folks building the new Friends communities in 2025. 

In 2024, the Peregrines take a snack break before going back to saving the ecosystem.

Story 5. Hint of a Mini Backlash

 

Story number five is short and has no named characters. It’s about zeitgeist – the general spirit of the times – which we all have influence over. 

 

In the early days of the Prairie Project we often worked along a bike trail – in part so people could see what we were doing, could ask questions, could join in if they wanted. Curious people often asked, “What are you getting?” They usually didn’t stop, so we needed quick answers. We tried saying, “restoring nature” or “taking care of the prairie” which tended to be met by blank stares. Then we hit on, “Helping restore endangered species” which was true, if very partial. The Endangered Species Act was new and popular. Most people smiled and said, “oh wow” or “great!” or “amazing!”  

 

Years later, we still got that response from some people. But others frowned. A surprising number said in challenging tones, “What about jobs?!”

 

This made no sense, logically. But the spotted owl and snail darter had been big in the news – and the charge was that efforts to save these species were costing jobs in the lumber industry or dam building. Saving endangered species had become something negative to many people.

 

Most of us can’t take the time to “do our own research” on thousands of questions, so we depend on opinion leaders, experts, and friends. There's no alternative. Who's worth listening to is one of the most important questions we all face. For biodiversity conservation, we would be wise to take that fact seriously. If we're to be listened to, we need to avoid language that seems extremist or alienating. We seek language that communicates well and avoids political mine fields. While activists may need from time to time to take a bold stand for something unpopular, and work hard to win people over, that won't work if we do it too often.

Experience makes us think twice about Margaret Mead's famous quotation. A small group of thoughtful people can also fail, if huge forces are arrayed against them, and if they play their cards wrong. The new insights introduced by such a small group must be wise and practical - and become the overall consensus, if those big or little revolutions are to take hold, become culture, and ultimately influence most people's behavior.  

Story 6. The Rise and Fall of Painful Times

 

We were on a roll. By the mid-nineties, the words restoration, prairie, and savanna were common for the first time. Thanks to Rachel Carson, Aldo Leopold, and others (including us, in the Chicago area), the concepts were being taught in school classrooms.  “Prairie” and “Savanna” started appearing in the names of subdivisions, companies, streets, and products. Kids were being named Savanna, River, Meadow and such – they’re beautiful names. Hundreds of local restoration groups prospered, many of them attracting scores or hundreds of participants annually. At some just a few people did all the work, but they multiplied their efforts by becoming respected and building local “patriotism” for local nature, for decades. 

 

But as it turned out, we’d pushed too far, too fast. Stewards gained power to influence political decisions and came into conflict with other influential groups. A minority of mountain bikers and horseback riders had become accustomed to riding off trail in ways that destroyed rare vegetation and sometimes started major erosion gullies on slopes. Some companies and homeowners wanted no one to notice that they were using preserve land for other purposes. Stewards spoke out and made enemies. 

 

The most influential were groups who opposed deer culling. For years they’d had popular sentiment on their sides and won battle after battle. Ecosystems began degrading, and people were increasingly being injured by deer-auto crashes. Forest preserve officials asked the stewards to come to the defense of culling. Our side then started to win these battles. But the “animal rights” groups relished the fight and were much more media experienced. Indeed, we had prided ourselves on staying out of controversy as much as possible.

 

Friendly reporters started warning us that an impressive campaign was building. Frequent press releases were arriving. These releases claimed that the stewards and staff were killiing trees, setting forest fires, destroying bird habitat, using dangerous herbicides. They left the deer question in the background. 

 

On May 12, 1996, a massive Sun-Times headline read “HALF MILLION TREES FACE AX – DuPage Clearing Forests To Revive Prairies.” Next came dozens of similar anti-restoration articles, week after week, full of misinformation, but editors had taken the story away from science reporters and brought in political ones. Soon DuPage and Cook County Forest Preserves declared a moratorium on restoration, and Lake County headed that way. Stewards were not allowed to burn, cut, pull weeds, or even pick up trash. Their sites suffered, and so did they. 

 

Contentious hearings produced yelling and threats. Peace was gradually made with the mountain bikers, horse folks, and birders. But the press campaign continued, now fueled mostly by two groups – the original deer control protesters and influential residents of two wealthy Chicago forest-preserve-adjacent neighborhoods who made it clear that their real beef was outsiders – especially African-American and Latino kids in the woods across the street from their houses. Protestors carried signs about cutting trees and fire, but people with mean voices yelled “We don’t want you in this neighborhood - you and the darkies you bring with you.” No reporter was willing to mention that aspect. It wrecked their narrative. 

 

After four years of this, doing our best, making some gains, in 2001 we started a new advocacy and media strategy. We created Friends of the Forest Preserves, signed up influential support organizations, and enlisted eighty botanists to conduct a scientific sampling of the 50,000 acres of Cook County Forest Preserves that were supposed to be in their natural state. In 2002 we held a press conference outside the office of the County Board president. We criticized poor maintenance of picnic areas and many other failures. But the key failing, well documented through the scientific sampling by those eighty volunteers, was that 68% of the preserves were in poor ecological health. That launched a new series of headlines, supporting our concerns this time. (The news folks like new news.) Those opponents seemed to have nothing new to say. The President fired the General Superintendent and hired a new one, Steve Bylina, who seems to have told his staff, “Make Peace with These Stewards!!” For years we met and planned the Forest Preserve policy and budget jointly with him. For restoration and conservation, he did a good job. 

 

After the Moratorium had finally ended, new President Preckwinkle (left) and new Superintendent Arnold Randall (right) posed with some of the North Branch leaders after presenting an award to the group. Volunteers, from left to right: Jane Balaban, Jonathan Sladek, Laurel Ross, Marianne Kozlowski, Stephen Packard, Linda Masters, Larry Hodak, Jerry Fuller, and Kent Fuller. For this business-hours event, most of the younger leaders were at work. 

The Moratorium had been lifted piece by piece over ten years. It had been a frustrating experience for many. Yes, a small group can change the world, but not if it stays small.  

One final photo, from yesterday, as a reminder of the biodiversity that our new culture works to save. This former corn field at Somme Prairie Grove was restored with seed from very small remnants nearby. After 45 years of faithful stewardship, imperfect in many ways, the species most easily seen flowering in this photo include cream false indigo, shooting star, wood betony, and golden Alexanders. Singing while the photo was taken were an orchard oriole, a yellow-throat, and two kingbirds. Animal and plant species on the federal Endangered Species list thrive here. This revived health and richness inspire us. 

End of Part Two

Acknowledgements

For proofing and edits, thanks to Eriko Kojima, Sharon Rosenzweig, Kelvin Liu, and Rebeccah Hartz. 

Nine Stories of Moral Ambition

Intro: Saving the world can be fun and a worthy mission, if we work on it together. 

Second Intro: These three stories are Part 1 of a promised written version of the "Nine Stories" talk Stephen Packard gave at “Wild Things – a Conference of People and Nature” in March 2025. This post's title reflects a recent interesting book and web initiative on “Moral Ambition” by Rutger Bregman. It seemed apt, if his concept could be broadened to fit the likes of us. See Endnote.

Teaser: this beautiful and endangered plant will rise out of the brush in Story three. 

Story one: Doug and Dot Wade seem to Fail, but later Succeed

One fine day in 1987, we walked across a vast but degraded prairie, attempting to found the support group that would ultimately save what we now call Nachusa Grasslands. On that walk one of our mentors, Doug Wade, told a few of us younger conservationists about his secret for fundraising. It required taking a heavy frying pan on a prairie hike with a rich donor. You explain to him how to tell a fox den from a coyote den. You show him how to stick your head in the hole. Fox dens smell musky. Coyote dens smell unmistakably like dog. It’s a familiar smell, surprising in that context.

 

Okay:  When the donor’s head is in the hole, you take that frying pan and give him a good clout in the butt, so his head gets stuck, and you offer to pull him back out … in exchange for big money. 

 

It was a bad joke. Kind of stupid and perplexing at the time. Perhaps it reflected the fact that so many of Doug’s good and visionary ideas didn’t get funded. The Wades had been students of and close friends with the conservation prophet, Aldo Leopold, and they felt urgency to provide the next generation of leadership.

Shortly after Leopold died in 1948, Doug was hired by Dartmouth College but was not happy there. After other false startes, he came home to the tallgrass and taught field biology at Northern Illinois University, out in farm country. People respected Doug and deeply admired his wife Dot — for her warmth and ability to help high-strung academics and environmentalists to get along with each other. Dot established a business raising and selling prairie plants – the first of its kind, at a time when few had ever heard about them, or cared. She once said to me, “I couldn’t imagine who’d ever buy one; I thought you’d need to be a very intellectual person, probably from Chicago.”

 

In later years, I tried to visit Dot every time I was out that way, because I liked her. I did not think of her as a potential donor, even though, as Nature Conservancy staff, I was supposed to be on the lookout for such. On one visit, she told me that another organization was visiting her more often than I was. I gave her a funny look, and said, “It sounds like that organization is buttering you up.”

 

Dot’s face broadened into an enormous smile, and she said: “I love to be buttered up!” It turned out that she’d inherited stock in an ice cream company her dad had started in New Jersey. She soon donated $56,000 dollars to Nachusa.  

 

Doug and Dot Wade launched what we now call Wild Things. 

But back in 1975, the Wades had a powerful idea that didn’t need funding.  The word “biodiversity” did not yet exist. But a few academics had been pointing out that tiny, shrinking prairie remnants were all that remained of the fabled rich grasslands of The Prairie State. The first North American Prairie Conference had been organized by Professor Pete Schram at nearby Knox College in 1968. Starting then, every two years those scientists would come together and share what they were learning – speaking scientific Latin — on weekdays. The Wades thought “Maybe enough people are starting to care that we could organize a little conference where a wider range people, including volunteers, could come together to learn and strategize on prairie conservation.” Would people show up? Doug convinced his university to sponsor it, on the condition that attendees paid for their lunches. When an amazing 150 people had signed up, the university told him that was as many lunches as the facility could handle. He should close registration. Wade sent out the notice, “Registration is still open, but from now on, bring your own lunch!” 

 

That conference has been held every second year since, and this year was its 50^th anniversary. Now it’s called Wild Things (they make our hearts sing). It kept going because volunteers did the work - in part because they respected Doug and Dot. In 2025, it drew 2,600 people. (The North American Prairie Conference also continues, attracting hundreds.) 

 

In 2025, Wild Things included more than 140 presentations and workshops that sought to be enjoyable and meaningful to every kind of person. Ultimately, for this planet to thrive in good health, most people need to understand and care. Doug and Dot helped empower many of us with moral ambition.  

Story two: She Built Bridges for Bird Conservation. 

 

Judy Pollock is a birder and activist. She and her husband Scott connected to environmental work on a delegation to Guatemala with local activists. But on her return to Chicago, she found herself with little free time – aside from her job as a teacher and raising two young kids. Yet, still wanting to contribute to conservation, she came across an invitation to help monitor birds in restoration areas and advise stewards on that part of the challenge.

 

North Branch Prairie Project stewards, supported by The Nature Conservancy, were cutting brush to rescue often-nearly-gone prairie remnants, an acre here, twenty acres there. At the ten-acre Miami Woods Prairie (a Cook County Forest Preserve, then of fair quality, at best) she found breeding indigo buntings, willow flycatchers, yellowthroats, and others. As the shrubs vanished, those birds dwindled. The steward told her that was okay, on the theory they’d be replaced by higher-conservation-priority prairie birds. Judy explained that no prairie bird would ever breed on a ten-acre prairie; it’s too small. So why wreck the habitat of the shrubland birds (also declining) that did breed there? The steward wasn’t convinced. In a few years, all the brush and most of the birds were gone; Judy felt like she’d wasted her time. She occasionally recommended that the restoration folks reconsider their approach to birds. No one seemed to listen.

Sonia, Scott the younger, Scott the dad, and Judy Pollock check out the ecosystem. 

In early 1996, Judy talked with other birders, and they organized a conference – with birders and restoration folks picking the speakers together. In that context, birders and stewards could get together with equal standing, present their cases, and work stuff out. It succeeded – leading to the formation of the Bird Conservation Network, a new, focused, powerful constituency that pursued a number of new and larger bird conservation efforts.

 

Later, when Judy and others heard that an O’Hare airport expansion plan would damage a small, degraded marsh that was of value to migratory shorebirds, they spoke up, making some Chicago city officials nervous that environmentalist objections could stall the project. Criticism can be just negative, but successful advocacy needs ultimately to be constructive. In this case, a compatible solution was proposed by Openlands, and in response O’Hare contributed an impressive 26 million dollars to a fund for restoring health to thousands of acres of bird habitat – especially wetlands, prairies, and shrublands. Over the years, such work became Judy’s profession. 

 

Over the years Judy played a major role in reviving the Wild Things conference and promoting local prairie bird, shrubland bird, and all bird habitat – especially at the Bartel Grassland, Orland Grassland, and the Spring Creek Preserves. 

 

Judy and others also worked successfully with Mayor Daley to have Chicago’s tall building lights dimmed during migration, saving the lives of thousands of tired migrating birds, which had been attracted to and then crashing into those buildings for decades. A big success. 

 

Initiative, advocacy, and restoration: You go, Judy!

 

Endnote to Story two: Backstory on the $26M

 

Much biodiversity depends on thriving natural ecosystems. During the 1980s and 90s, an awareness of this fact was increasing (locally and nationally), thanks in part to media and volunteer stewardship initiatives in the Chicago region. A key contributor in the growing conservation community was Jean Sellar, a creative and dedicated biologist in the Chicago office of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. When word reached her that Material Services Corporation apparently illegally destroyed a natural prairie and wetland in its ownership, the Corps approached them about mitigation. To avoid a lawsuit, Material Services agreed on donating $7M to a restoration fund administered by Openlands. This precedent had a national impact in efforts to focus Army Corps resources on returning disrupted hydrology to its original form when practical, rather than channelizing and damming etc. To collaborate strategically with natural ecosystem processes can sometimes produce better solutions than those depending on concrete and steel. 

 

When the City of Chicago sought a mitigation to facilitate the expansion of the O’Hare Airport, they followed that example. One day in its pile of mail, Openlands fished out a regular business envelope containing a check for $26,000,000. Thus began massive benefits for many worthy sites. It reflected the work of a great many people who made conservation needs understandable and urgent in the public mind. 

 

Story three: Childhood Memories Cause Good Trouble 

 

The heroine of this story is Barbara Turner. She donated a rare, high-quality oak woodland as a Nature Preserve and protected it as a steward, pulling garlic mustard and cutting buckthorn. I came into this story when I was hired by the Nature Preserves Commission to help watch over such sites. I asked Barbara to show me some of the rare, interesting wildflowers that were the site’s treasures. She took me from place to place, saying, “They used to be here. I’m sure they were here.” Troubled, she finally said, “Well I hoped not to have to do this. I know we're not supposed to, but I mow a small area of the preserve as a classroom when school children come to visit.” She took me there, and we saw the sought-after plants, including the Endangered wood pea. But we had to face the fact that something was wrong.

 

Others at this time were also starting to realize that the oak woodlands needed fire to maintain their biodiversity, so we sent a letter to the Commission requesting approval for experimental burning of Nature Preserve oak woodlands – which had never been done up till then. 

 

At the next meeting of the Commission, there was a buzz in the air as people had come to witness expected controversy. But when the agenda reached that item, the chair sternly decreed that no approval could be considered except in the context of a specific proposal from a preserve landowner that included a carefully designed study. (Days later he stormed into my office and angrily told me that he wanted to hear no more on this subject!!!) But as soon as the Commission meeting ended, Barbara approached me and offered her woods for the experiment. Botanist Jerry Wilhelm came over and offered to do the study – for free. 

 

The Commission turned down our request. But, as is so often true, the “defeat” was just face-saving and foot-dragging. The Commission soon came up with $20,000 to study burning at four savanna/woodland sites: Reed-turner Woodland, Somme Prairie Grove, Wadsworth Savanna, and Middlefork Savanna. All these oak ecosystem complexes began to receive regular burns, and the data showed that the burns worked. Biodiversity perked up. But damage had been done. At Reed-Turner Woodland, some species were gone and others recovered very slowly.  

 

In the meantime Barbara kept thinking about what seemed to have been happening. She'd been an enthusiastic student and friend of conservationist May Thielgaard Watts, who'd visited the site. Barbara searched her memory and old photos and reported the unsettling realization that her precious woodland had been, decades earlier, much richer and more beautiful. She then proposed another experiment. “What do you think?” she asked. “The so-called lawn around our house is really just the woods, mowed occasionally for many years. What if we stopped mowing and started burning?” At her insistence, we burned right up to the foundation. After two years, her former lawn bloomed with the endangered wood pea as well as violet bush clover, an open woodland species never before reported in Lake County. It turned out that occasional mowing had done less damage to the ecosystem than “letting nature take its course.” 

 

After a review of these experiments, the Commission began standard approvals for controlled burns in oak savannas and woodlands - thanks in large part to the vision and courage of Barbara Turner.

 This post is part 1 of what we hope will soon be all Nine Stories. 

Endnote

Rutger Bregman started "The School For Moral Ambition" with a mostly inspiring vision. Many of the people in these stories seem to embody what he writes about. Unfortunately, in some interviews Bregman focuses a bit much on elites. He argues that, with cultural change, some of "the smartest people in the room" will find riches ultimately tedious and unfulfilling and direct their talents toward what's good and right. Consumerism and "pride of wealth and privilege" would be superseded by lives of less affluence and more happiness and satisfaction. Yes, fine, that would be good for the rich and powerful. But perhaps this thinking could apply in varied ways to the majority of the Earth's people, who want better lives and a better world.  

Acknowledgements 

Christos Economou, Eriko Kojima, Stone Hansard, and Jane Jordan provided helpful proofing and edits. 

Exclusion Cages implicate Deer

The name of the Nature Preserve shown below isn't mentioned here - for good reasons (see Endnote). 

Excess and uncontrolled numbers of white-tailed deer are degrading rare, high-quality ecosystems widely. As a result, some species of plants persist but fail to flower. Any pollinator that is specially adapted to such flowers may die out. Some plant species survive as a few leaves and depleted roots; other plant species are lost from these preserves. The ecosystems suffer loss of biodiversity. 

The deer exclusion cage above is a rusty mess. It was half fallen apart when new Friends stewards discovered and repaired it (and others nearby) last winter. But this spring showed how well it had been working. 

Largely bare ground surrounds these cages. Most striking within was the large-flowered white trillium. Also present and blooming on May 15 were wild geranium and wood anemone - two species not thought especially vulnerable to deer damage. But outside the cages in this heavily grazed area all three were largely absent or barely identifiable as a few small leaves. 

A healthy ecosystem is a beautiful and inspiring thing. Much biodiversity survives best or only in the diverse stability of healthy ecosystems. Management of rich nature requires restoration of the conditions in which the diverse species evolved over millions of years. For many areas, that means regular fire, undisrupted hydrology, and a balance between predators and prey. 

For understandable reasons, some people see deer control as evil. But badly overpopulated deer cause many other evils. 

In the past, deer numbers have been regulated by such predators as mountain lions, bears, wolves, and humans. In the absence of the first three (which have little recovery potential in many areas today), the balancing depends on humans. For many sites, landowning agencies wisely employ sharp-shooters to cull deer - and donate the venison to food pantries. It takes work and sometimes courage to establish good deer management programs. More of them are needed. 

Endnote

The name of the preserve where the photo was taken is omitted here in part because the deer over-population problem needs to be seen as widespread. It's also true that a focus on one or a few sites can create public relations problems for those sites. 

Deer control programs require a sensitive balancing of community interests and aspirations. Such balancing does best when people avoid discord and conflict, instead seeking workable consensus based on diverse points of view.  

"Bonfire Palooza" Raises Questions

 A good Instagram comment (by "mangigoroka") responded to recent photos of the Illinois Beach "Chainsaw Bonfire Palooza." 

Chicago region restorationists seem bound and determined to burn every last scrap of course woody debris. Is there scientific research to back this practice of making everything "clean"? Why burn course woody debris that a prescribed fire left behind- shouldn't repeated prescribed burns take down the coarse woody debris to"natural levels"? Don't you need those logs for 1) carbon sequestration 2) habitat for fungi and invertebrates 3) "nurse logs" and microclimate for certain plants? I wonder if there has been an overcorrection for fire suppression. Messy landscapes have more structural diversity. No? I appreciate the restoration work. I just question the strong emphasis in "cleaning" everything up in the Chicago region.

We appreciate these questions. We can’t speak for all “the Chicago Region restorationists.” It doesn’t seem impossible that there may be “over-correction” at some sites. But we can speak for our work to reduce log piles at Illinois Beach.  

Large areas south of Dead River are badly and increasingly degraded by piles of pine logs. For some reason, these logs and branches are very slow to degrade. They don’t burn, perhaps because they’ve killed the grasses and forbs that would have provided the fuel to ignite them. Crown vetch is one of the few species that thrives under the pines, and from there it marches destructively out into the surrounding vegetation. 

Notice that the lower leaves of the black oaks in the background have been killed by a recent fire. That fire, like many before, had little impact on the log piles. 

We suppose these logs would ultimately rot or burn or be covered by blowing sand if we waited long enough. But they cover a substantial area, and every acre here is precious. A few animal and plant species are dropping out, possibly because their populations are too small to adapt to changing conditions. So we try to help.

South of Dead River we don’t pile or burn any logs except for those fire-resistant pines. Sadly, at the rate we’re going, it would be decades before we got them all burned up. But we see benefits in doing what we can and then strategizing on how to do better.

As for the work last week, which drew the thoughtful comment that starts this post, that was a special case, which is now pretty much finished. Many trees along the main Dune Trail heading south from the parking lot had been cut to prevent them from falling on the trail. There were too many, and they were causing problems similar to the pines south of Dead River, killing the pricelessly high-quality savanna flora underneath. There were also, along the Dead River Trail, brush piles where trees had been cut up and piled because they indeed actually had fallen across the trails. Some people give arguments in favor of brush piles for animals to hide in. But this is a Nature Preserve where we don't want artificial structures. There are still vast numbers of naturally fallen trees, which serve that function. 

The wood cut and burned at this weekend’s palooza were all along those two popular hiking trails, generating good questions from park visitors and hikers who passed, and prompting good discussions among visitors and stewards. Removing that ugly and unnatural mess not only benefits the ecosystem, it also makes this beautiful savanna more visible to those who visit it, some of whom therefore may be motivated to help care for it. 

At noon, we had lunch break ... and a bit of planning and discussion. Our log seats for lunch were later added to the fires. Notice smoke from two fires behind us along the trail. Notice also that there is still plenty of natural downed wood, as a natural part of the ecosystem. 

We are tickled to report that under some logs we picked up we found - brace yourself - native cockroaches. We love them, along with the rest of the fairly unique flora and fauna that thrive here. We help all as best we can and are so happy to have these opportunities. 

Three more photos of the evil log piles and the struggling flora near them: 

Here Sharon Rosenzweig points to the killer crown vetch that proliferates under some of the piles. She will spray herbicide on it. 

            Quality flora survives near the piles, but it's thinner and weaker than farther away. 

Downy yellow painted cup is one of many endangered or rare species that would appreciate a bit more living space restored. 

For other Illinois Beach posts, click here and here. 

Acknowledgements

Thanks to Zoey Raines for good edits. 

Morton Grove Prairie Nature Preserve Rises Again!

Morton Grove Prairie seemed mostly gone. Years of minimal stewardship had left most of the site without prairie plants or animals. Instead the occasional visitors mostly walked through head-high brush and stands of tall goldenrod. 

This sad story was told in a post in October 2023.

Whose fault was it? Not the Morton Grove Park District that owned it. This good agency had no ecosystem scientists on staff, unsurprisingly, and they responded to what minimal input they got. Keeping rare Nature Preserves healthy in most cases is too hard without multiple inputs - including public participation and support. 

Now - an amazing comeback was recently reported by the stewards team, empowered by Friends of Illinois Nature Preserves. It is reproduced below:

It Takes a Village to Save a Prairie

Admiring a Year of Good Stewardship ... Inspiring the Year Ahead 

March 18th 2024 - a new chapter begins for Morton Grove Prairie. 

A new community of neighbors assembled by Friends and the North Branch Restoration Project starts to battle the brush.

On April 3rd, 2024 the neighbors were joined by the Peregrines - a travelling Friends group of stewards mostly in their twenties and thirties. Gray dogwood, brambles, and willow bit the dust. Eileen Sutter, in the foreground, began recording the many prairie species that survived, many in small numbers.

Some of the early leaders - Eriko, Larry, Maria, Stone and Rebeccah - squint towards the camera. They claimed they were blinded by the prairie's bright future.

In May, the Morton Grove Park District removed many cottonwood trees that had grown and gradually shaded the eastern edge of the prairie. Without this important "heavy lifting" - restoration of much of the site would not be possible. 

Bit by bit the new stewards team identified needs and divided up responsibilities.

Ken heroically brushcut tall goldenrod, sumac resprouts, and other aggressive species throughout the growing season. And he taught others to do the same!

By summer, some of the better parts of the site were looking good.

But most of the prairie was just gone. It would not come back without help.

Weekday evening workdays focus on collecting seeds in the better areas. The work delivered many picturesque golden hours and dreamy sunsets. Here, Maria searches for seed seed of early-blooming species.

Here that selfsame Maria stands with seed bounty collected in the prairie by the new group in 2024 - in total, about 7 gallons of roughly 35 species. A generous supplement of hyper-diverse seeds also was donated to the cause by the nearby North Branch Restoration Project. Some of the genes in those species came from Morton Grove Prairie in the first place.

January 12th, 2025 - Those seeds were planted in every needy place.

March 27th, 2025 - the prairie burned! 

Trained and certified staff and volunteers with the Friends managed the fire. 

Bit by bit health is returning. 

Congratulations to All.

Here's to another Great Year Ahead!

Endnote: Prairie Species Rediscovered Here in 2024.

Achillea millefolium (common yarrow) Agrimonia gryposepala (tall agrimony) Allium canadense (wild garlic) Amorpha canescens (leadplant) Andropogon gerardii (big bluestem) Anemone canadensis (Ccanada anemone) Anemone cylindrica (thimbleweed) Antennaria neglecta (field pussytoes) Antennaria sp. (plantaginifolia or parlinii) Apocynum cannabinum (hemp dogbane) Asclepias purpurascens (purple milkweed) Asclepias syriaca (common milkweed) Asclepias tuberosa (butterfly milkweed) Asclepias verticillata (whorled milkweed) Caenothus americanus (new jersey tea) Calamagrostis canadensis (blue joint grass) Carex stricta (tussock sedge) Carex bicknellii (bicknell's sedge) Carex buxbaumii (buxbaum's sedge) Cirsium discolor (field thistle) Comandra umbellata (bastard toadflax) Coreopsis tripteris (tall coreopsis) Cuscuta sp. (dodder sp.) Dalea purpurea (purple prairie clover) Danthonia spicata (poverty oat grass) Desmodium canadense (showy tick trefoil) Dichanthelium scribneranium (scribner's panicgrass) Dodecatheon meadia (eastern shooting star) Elymus canadensis (canada wild rye) Erechtites hieraciilfolius (american burnweed) Erigeron philadelphicus (philadelphia fleabane) Eryngium yuccifolium (rattlesnake master) Eupatorium altissimum (tall boneset) Euphorbia corollata (flowering spurge) Euthamia graminifolia (grass-leaved goldenrod) Fragaria virginiana (wild strawberry) Galium obtusum (blunt-leaf bedstraw) Gentianella quinquefolia (stiff gentian) Geum laciniatum (rough avens) Heuchera richardsonii (prairie alumroot) Helianthus grosseserratus (sawtooth sunflower) Hesperostipa spartea (porcupine grass) Hypoxis hirsuta (yellow star grass) Juncus tenuis (path rush) Lactuca canadensis (canada wild lettuce) Lespedeza capitata (round-headed bush clover) Liatris spicata (dense blazing star) Lobelia spicata (pale-spiked lobelia) Maianthemum stellatum (false solomon's seal) Monarda fistulosa (wild bergamot) Oenothera gaura (biennial gaura) Oenothera pilosella (prairie sundrops) Oligoneuron rigidum (stiff goldenrod) Oxalis stricta (tall woodsorrel) Oxypolis rigidior (stiff cowbane) Packera paupercula (balsam ragwort) Panicum vergatum (switch grass) Parthenium integrifolium (wild quinine) Pedicularis canadensis (wood betony) Penstemon digitalis (foxglove beardtongue) Persicaria amphibia (water smartweed) Phlox pilosa (downy phlox) Polygonatum biflorum (smooth Solomon's seal) Pycnanthemum virginianum (Virginia mountain mint) Ratibida pinnata (gray-headed coneflower) Roegneria subsecunda (bearded wheat grass) Rudbeckia hirta (black-eyed Susan) Rosa carolina (carolina rose) Rosa blanda (smooth wild rose) Schizachyrium scoparium (little bluestem) Scutellaria parvula var. leonardii (prairie skullcap) Silphium integrifolium (rosinweed) Silphium laciniatum (compass plant) Silphium perfoliatum (cup plant) Silphium terebinthenaceum (prairie dock) Sisyrinchium albidum (white blue-eyed grass) Solidago altissima (tall goldenrod) Solidago juncea (early goldenrod) Solidago nemoralis (gray goldenrod) Sorghastrum nutans (indian grass) Spartina pectinata (prairie cordgrass) Sporobolus heterolepis (prairie dropseed) Stachys sp. (hedge nettle sp.) Symphyotrichum ericoides (heath aster) Symphyotrichum laeve (smooth blue aster) Symphyotrichum novae-angliae (New England aster) Symphyotrichum oolentangiense (sky blue aster) Symphyotrichum pilosum (old field aster) Teucrium canadense (american germander) Thalictrum dasycarpum.(purple meadow rue) Tradescantia ohiensis (Ohio spiderwort) Trillium recurvatum (prairie trillium) Triosteum perfoliatum (late horse gentian) Verbena urticifolia (white vervain) Veronicastrum virginicum (culver's root) Viola sororia (common blue violet) Zizia aurea (golden Alexanders) Credits The language and photos of this post were assembled by the Morton Grove Prairie Nature Preserve stewards community.