Thursday, August 19, 2021

My First Public Planting--a Prairie Circle in Ann Arbor, MI

Each time I travel to Ann Arbor, where I lived off and on for 20 years, I make a pilgrimage to several special spots. 

One of them is a small demonstration prairie I planted just a few years before leaving. It was my first public planting and, incredibly, it continues to flourish. I say incredibly because I've seen many idealistic native meadow plantings degrade over time, overrun by any number of aggressive plants, be they trees, shrubs, and native blackberry, or a host of nonnative weeds like mugwort and Canada thistle. 

One reason it has survived is the native plants themselves, growing densely together, leaving no room for incursion. A tallgrass prairie is a robust plant community. In sunny conditions, flowers like rosinweed and purple coneflower can hold their own.
The gray-headed coneflowers--a species much like the cutleaf coneflowers we have in Princeton--have hung in there with the big bluestem and Indian grasses. There are also some wonderful goldenrods--"showy" and "stiff-leaved"--that stay in one place and don't encroach like many other kinds of goldenrod do. Even the nonnative queen Anne's lace, which you'll see taking over along midwestern roadsides, is somehow remaining limited in its aggressiveness. It's possible that a well established planting like this could need little more tending than a late winter mowing to keep the woodies at bay, but there may be some low-key TLC going on to keep things in balance.

I planted it in the early 1990s. The county naturalist at the time, Matt Heumann, helped with seed and design. His successor, Shawn Severance, sent me a very nice note about the prairie:

"That prairie planting has gone on in time to spread seed into the surrounding 4 acres and has enriched the diversity of the park far beyond the original footprint. It’s a continual reminder of the power of small actions. Since you did that planting, we have restored several acres of prairie habitat nearby and so what you set in motion has expanded."

Heartening to think that focusing attention on one small planting could ultimately have a ripple effect on its surroundings. The prairie even made it onto the preserve's map, as the "Prairie Circle." There's another advantage this prairie has. Ann Arbor is a progressive town that has invested in the management of its open space. In addition to the county staff, the city has a Natural Areas Preservation Manager who oversees restoration of diverse habitats, controlling uber-invasives like buckthorn and conducting prescribed burns to bring back bur oak savannas and other historically prevalent habitats.

Having absorbed that culture and brand of wild horticulture, I was able to take what I learned in Ann Arbor and apply it in subsequent migrations to Durham, NC and then here in Princeton. It wasn't a matter of taking favorite plants along on the trip, but rather getting to know the species indigenous to any locale, and finding public places where they could be encountered by people otherwise surrounded by generic, nonnative landscaping. 

There's a bench nearby that faces the Prairie Circle. I don't know who Omry Ronen was, but his loved ones must have thought he'd like an enduring view of tall grasses and wildflowers flowing with the breeze.


Friday, August 06, 2021

More Kinds of Dragonflies and Damselflies Found at Rogers Refuge

What wonderful names have the dragonflies and damselflies that Mark Manning and his son are finding at Rogers Refuge. Known mostly for its birdlife, this patch of floodplain along the StonyBrook below the Institute Woods also is home to other diversities. My ecological assessment of the refuge from 2007 includes a plant inventory, and now we have an expanding list of Odonata as well, totaling 36 different species. Below are the Mannings' photos of a few, and their full list to date. The names make one want to write an ode to Odonata. 

Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Skimmer and Jewelwing!

On, Bluet! on, Glider! on, Darner and Clubtail!

To the top of the sedge! To the top of the cattail!

Now fly away! fly away! fly away all!

The names--Fragile forktail, pondhawk, meadowhawk--are as vivid and full of action as the insects themselves.

Ebony Jewelwing
Blue Dasher
Painted Skimmer
Unicorn Clubtail

Blue-tipped Dancer
Lancet Clubtail

Black-shouldered Spinyleg



Rogers Refuge Odonata List as of 7/17/2021-Mark Manning

 

Ebony jewelwing

Blue-fronted dancer

Violet dancer

Powdered dancer

Blue-tipped dancer

Azure bluet

Double-striped bluet

Familiar bluet

Turquoise bluet

Stream bluet

Slender bluet

Fragile forktail

Eastern forktail

Common green darner

Comet darner

Unicorn clubtail

Black-shouldered spinyleg

Lancet clubtail

Ashy/dusky clubtail

Prince baskettail

Common baskettail

Halloween pennant

Eastern pondhawk

Slaty skimmer

Widow skimmer

Twelve-spotted skimmer

Painted skimmer

Great blue skimmer

Blue dasher

Wandering glider

Spot-winged glider

Eastern amberwing

Common whitetail

Autumn meadowhawk

Carolina saddlebags

Black saddlebags

 

Total: 36


Update: at season's end, in early September, the Mannings added one more species to the list: 

the russet-tipped clubtail

Suburban Monocultures and Insect Decline

Thoughts about insect decline and some field observations came together at the corner of Harrison Street and Terhune the other day when I headed to the optical shoppe to get my glasses adjusted. 

The lawn outside the building could be described as an ecological desert, a large expanse of closely cropped grass whose only purpose is to flatter the building. And yet it seems right to our culturally conditioned eyes, which view it as greenspace even if it constitutes an ecological void. 
Whereas a lawn is an intentional monoculture enforced directly by people, this expanse of Sericea lespedeza, also called Chinese bushclover, is enforced by the aggressiveness of the plant itself. I've watched this field, on land next to the shopping center, gradually become overwhelmed by the introduced species, whose foliage is spurned by the local wildlife, including insects.

Thirty feet away, the Japanese stiltgrass is having its way along Terhune, as it does along so many roadsides. This displacement of diverse flora, whether suddenly in the form of a development, or gradually along roadsides or in abandoned fields, surely is playing a big role in the diminished habitat for the insects upon which ecosystem foodchains depend.

Interesting to see the patch of lighter green in this photo. That's native sensitive fern, which is clearly holding its own against the stiltgrass. But this is one small victory in a landscape that has shifted dramatically towards monoculture. Imagine what it would be like to walk into a supermarket and find only cardboard on the shelves. That must be how an insect experiences so much of the suburban landscape.

Note: Just noticed that local birder and Princeton professor David Wilcove recently co-wrote an opinion piece in the Washington Post entitled "We need to figure out what's happening to the bugs--before it's too late."