Mini Honewort Flowers Feed Mini Pollinators

My friend Steven honed in on a 2-3 foot plant in the more jungly section of his backyard that I'd never encountered before. He sent a photo, and asked whether to pull it out or not. I eventually came up with Cryptotaenia canadensis, a.k.a. honewort--not to be confused with hornwort, an aquatic plant.

Honewort is a native that's in the carrot (Queen Anne's Lace) family. Its miniscule flowers cater to the needs of tiny pollinators, and its foliage feeds the black swallowtail butterfly, according to the description below, from the IllinoisWildflowers website. Sounds like a keeper.

"Faunal Associations: The nectar of the flowers attracts primarily small bees, wasps, flies, and beetles. This includes the parasitoid Ichneumonid wasps and Wild Carrot wasps (Gasteruptiidae). The caterpillars of the butterfly Papilio polyxenes asterias (Black Swallowtail) feed on the foliage of Honewort and many other members of the Carrot family."

(The Ichneumonid wasps mentioned above are harmless to people and can be useful for controlling insect pests in the garden.)

Sunlight and Plant Aggressiveness

A plant's behavior one year is not a sure indicator of how it will behave the next. This light green wave engulfing the plants around it seemed mild-mannered the first few years.

Fringed loosestrife (Lysimachia ciliata)--a native not to be confused with purple loosestrife--has modest flowers facing downward, and grows beside streams or in other consistently moist areas. It's rarely seen around Princeton. So, why the sudden show of aggression?

One cause may be the tendency of some wildflowers to seem well behaved the first few years, then start quickly expanding once they've established a strong root system. Here, the fringed loosestrife has completely enveloped blueflag iris and marsh marigold, with which it had been peacefully cohabiting.

Turtlehead and sensitive fern, too, are getting run over. A bigger factor in this sudden expansion is likely the extra sunlight the loosestrife is getting since a big pin oak had to be taken down a year ago. Add extra hours of sunlight, and a plant admired last year for its quiet beauty has become this year a menace to the balance of the garden, and must be pulled out.

A similar dynamic appears to be at work at Rogers Refuge, in an area where the shade of stunted ash trees curtails the cattails enough that they remain a scattered presence, allowing a more diverse understory of tussock sedges and ferns room to grow.

Weekend Black Bear Sightings in Princeton

Before venturing out today, you might want to read yesterday's (June 8) report on two bear sightings in Princeton, at PlanetPrinceton.com. Below is a link to the state website's information on important bear facts, and my notes from last year's DEP presentation, about the history of bears in NJ and why young bears are roaming into new territory this time of year.

Bear facts:
http://www.state.nj.us/dep/fgw/pdf/bear/bearfacts_know.pdf

Notes from a June, 2012 presentation by the NJ Dept. of Environmental Protrection:

Here is what I learned, mixed with some info from the states informative website: Black bears used to range over all of what is now NJ, but were killed indiscriminately until 1953, when they were given some protection under New Jersey's game laws. The hunting season was closed in 1971. Over the past fifteen years, their population has spread from northwest New Jersey until they have now been sighted in every county in NJ. Despite the expansion, funding for bear management has faced deep cuts. Complaints about bears doubled from 2006 to 2008, but have remained fairly stable since then. Hunts were allowed in 2010 and 2011 during a five day stretch in December.

In spring, the one and a half year olds head out to seek new territory. Bears are highly territorial, and the young bears much prefer to seek new territories than to risk what can be very violent and debilitating battles with already established bears. Princeton's recent visits by bears are of this nature.

Lots of photos were shown of bear-proof trash cans, and bears climbing up to empty the contents of birdfeeders. Another showed a garage door bent out of shape by bears seeking food. Since any bear that experiences the satisfactions of garbage will seek more of the same, it's important that homeowners in northern Jersey and other areas where bears have become numerous act in concert to keep food out of reach. Some towns have passed ordinances to regulate trash storage.

What's in Bloom in Early June

Sundrops (Oenothera fruticosa) is a native wildflower that likes sun. I've seen it growing wild in remnant prairies in the NC piedmont--the same piedmont that extends up to Princeton.

A lineup of orange, yellow and white--lilies, sundrops and peonies

Spiderwort (Tradescantia sp.) likes our wet, sunny ground in back. Rarely seen in the wild.

Weigela is a common shrub, not native but not invasive. This is the newer variety, which some sites call Weigela floribunda.

The older kind of Weigela (W. florida), has a lighter color and bigger size.

Among native shrubs in bloom, here's the native Euonymus (americana), also called Hearts-a-bustin'. It's a favorite of deer, which means it has all but disappeared from Princeton's nature preserves. I saw one growing at Herrontown Woods a few years back, but have yet to find it again. The flowers are barely visible, but the berries are bright red and surprisingly ornate. This one's in our backyard, safe from the deer. The ubiquitous "winged" Euonymus in the woods is an exotic.

So-called false indigo bush (Amorpha fruticosa) can be seen in Mountain Lakes Preserve and along Lake Carnegie. There's also one at Princeton high school ecolab that's flourishing in that habitat's sump pump splendor.

In the same locations, and also occasionally found elsewhere, is elderberry (Sambucus canadensis), a large, somewhat gangly native shrub that bears large disks of berries good for making pies, jelly and, for those with the skill and patience, wine.

Etiquette for Black Bear Encounters

Some black bears have been spotted in the area, as reported in Planetprinceton.com. To make sure people are prepared for any eventuality, below is a reposting of my free interpretation of a presentation given last year by state wildlife officials about how to deal with black bears.

At the presentation last month on black bears, given by state officials in township hall, I was astonished to learn that, in the very rare case that a black bear attacks, the best tactic is to fight back. Princetonians have not been called upon to display such courage since 1777, when we all could conveniently claim we had yet to be born.

To bridge this gap between experience and expectation, I herein provide a translation of the wildlife officials’ instructions, customized to fit the Princetonian lifestyle:

Black bears are near-sighted, so make noise to avoid surprising it. If the bear stands up on its hind legs, don’t worry. It’s just trying to see you better. Make sure the bear has an escape route. For instance, if it is following you out of the public library, hold the door open and give it plenty of room. If you encounter the bear in the woods, or on Nassau Street, you can back away slowly, but don't turn your back to the bear. In a calm, assertive voice, put the bear on notice that you are a Princetonian fully armed with opinions, and will not hesitate to express them.

Avoid eye contact. If it doesn't run away right off, bang the pot you happen to be carrying with you, or download a "kitchenware noise" app on your iphone. Bears hate to cook, which explains their interest in garbage. Otherwise, clap your hands, raise your arms over your head, wave a jacket, all of which should make you look large and impressive.

On rare occasions, the bear will do a bluff charge, at speeds up to 35 mph. If a cafe is close by, this is a good time to duck in for a double latte. If that option is not available, then you'll need to dig deep. Fleeing will only make you appear weak. Perhaps the stirring words of a high school football coach will come to mind. In any case, stand your ground, wave your arms and shout. Pretend you're in front of town council, venting your outrage over moving the Dinky. The bear should veer away from you at the last moment, providing a bigger thrill than any 3D movie at the mall.

If the bear actually attacks, which is extremely rare, it's time to drop all remaining pretense of civility. Fight back. Don't worry about the bear's lack of access to dental care. Without asking permission, bop it on the nose. Bears' noses are 100 times more sensitive than ours. Use this sensitivity to your advantage, all the while reveling in what a great story this will make to tell the grandkids.

In case you surf the internet for more info, don't be confused by accounts of how to behave when encountering a grizzly bear out west, where the protocol is completely different and not nearly so gallant.
July, 2012

Nature Walk Video -- Gulick Park

PrincetonNatureNotes goes multimedia with a wonderfully shot and edited HD video by Kurt Tazelaar and Sally Curtis. The April 7 walk in Gulick Park on the east side of Princeton was organized by Nicole Bergman. I'm the naturalist at large, Ed Simon leads volunteer efforts to maintain the park, and Bicycle and Pedestrian Committee member Steve Kruze also contributes. One "good old days" story Ed told is about a giant bull the Gulicks had that used to roam the woods and occasionally break through the barbed wire fence to explore the neighborhood.

Below are a few stops along the way.

00:20:00 History of the park--Ed Simon
00:34:50 Ed explains why we don't see antlers in the woods
00:37:45 The Christmas tree field from whence many borough park evergreens came
01:00:20 Discussion of the impact of deer on ecological balance

Bamboo--Edibility, Priability, Liability

A few weeks ago, as the local patches of bamboo were launching their spring offensive, consolidating their holdings of pricey Princeton real estate while expanding across fencelines into new territory, I encountered a Chinese man on the sidewalk, carrying a plastic bag of bamboo shoots. He looked like the real deal, as if he'd just stepped out of the labyrinth of a traditional Hutong neighborhood in China. Resident tourist that I am, I asked if I could take a photo, but he didn't speak English, and headed off towards the senior housing down the street.

His harvest had probably come not from McCaffery's but from a patch of rogue bamboo across the street,

whose adventurous sprouts periodically block drivers' views, get trimmed, and end up in a heap in the street.

With another neighbor's bamboo continuing to invade our yard, the edibility angle sounded worth pursuing.

As an experiment, I collected some and undertook a dissection of one on the back patio. Despite bamboo's reputation as a very tough customer (their toughness comes from a combination of silica and lignin), only a few outer leaves needed to be stripped off of the terminal shoot to reach the soft underbelly of this most imperialistic of backyard plants.

The next step would be to start eating, but there were questions. Are all species of bamboo edible? If only some, then is the local species one of them? Does it need to be cooked first? I was not looking forward to cracking a thick tome on grasses and analyzing microscopic features to figure out which of the 1450 species of bamboo I had just harvested. The botanist might become comatose before figuring out if the lemma is comose.

LIABILITY: Fortunately, an article in Mark Twain's old newspaper, the Hartford Courant, popped up in an internet search, telling of a law that passed the Connecticut House of Representatives last month by a vote of 130-3, requiring that "running bamboo" be

"set back at least 100 feet from abutting property. It also requires people who sell or install running bamboo to educate customers on the plant’s growing habits and recommended containment methods. A fee of $100 is prescribed for violators of either requirement.

The bill makes people who plant running bamboo liable for any damage the bamboo causes to neighboring properties, including the cost of removing any bamboo that spreads to neighboring properties. 

The measure passed the state Senate unanimously last week."

What is running bamboo, one might ask. Turns out there are two main growth forms of bamboo, running and clumping. Clumping forms are better behaved. I found conflicting information about whether there are clumping species that grow well enough and high enough to provide the sort of screening people look for from bamboo. Here's one of many links.

PRIABILITY: The Courant article mentioned Phyllostachys aureosulcata — yellow groove bamboo--which it called "the poster child for aggressive bamboo in Connecticut". Established stands of the species can travel 15 feet underground in a single year. When it reaches a house foundation, it can send shoots up underneath the siding, prying the siding off the house as it pushes upward.

It wasn't hard to find a local example of this. Fortunately, these are slender shoots, but could still do some damage.

Yellow groove bamboo, fortunately, is easy to identify. Nicknamed "crookstem bamboo", it often has crooks in the stem. The bamboo growing in my neighborhood has crooks in the stem,

as well as the characteristic yellow groove above the branches.

EDIBILITY: The silver lining in this yellow grooved poster boy for aggressiveness was found in this description of the species: "Cultivated mainly as an ornamental, this species is also among the best for edible shoot production, being free of acrid flavor even when raw."

So, thanks to a chance encounter with a Chinese neighbor, the world has become a more interesting, more edible place. There's still a question as to whether the tips of stems that have already grown several feet high can still be eaten. Though the Chinese man's harvest looked to be from stems already well above ground, this video suggests they have to be harvested just as they are emerging. The color of the flesh should be brown rather than the green said to make older shoots bitter.

Given human nature and the ease of buying bamboo shoots at the store, there's no way that harvesting will solve the problem of bamboo aggression in suburbia. There are other, less edible invasives pouring across fencelines--Japanese honeysuckle, English ivy, ground ivy. Fortunately, none of these threaten to pry siding off of houses or push up through asphalt driveways. Bamboo's destructive capacities make it a pioneer in exploring the liability gardeners may bear for plants that escape from their yards. Regulation is often characterized as an intrusion by government into people's lives, but more often it offers a means of protecting us from intrusion. With all sorts of pollution--biological, chemical, sonic--"freedom to" impinges on a "freedom from". That's something to meditate on while nibbling on some tasty bamboo shoots.

Info about harvesting and preparing: http://agsyst.wsu.edu/bambroc.pdf

Informative post with frequent mention of yellow grooved bamboo: http://waynesword.palomar.edu/ecoph39.htm

Info about nutritional content:

http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1541-4337.2011.00147.x/full

Self-Planting Trees

As evidenced by this bit of campus-grown tree planting, probably by some inspired students at Westminster Choir College, there's great satisfaction in planting a tree. Few small acts offer promise of so grand a result. If only we could unleash such forces for good through our fingertips, like superheroes, in all aspects of life.

There was a time--back when Princeton and the rest of the eastern U.S. was mostly farm fields--when planting a tree had even greater meaning. The relative lack of trees made people feel like they needed to speed the process. Many of Princeton's pine plantations that lost so many trees in recent storms were planted in the 1960's or before, to jumpstart reforestation.

It's nice to feel needed, particularly by something so grand as a tree. In many places we still are--along streets and in parking lots, where shade is needed to cool the asphalt, or to plant just the right tree in just the right place to shade a house or play equipment in a park.

But one sign of a healthy habitat is the capacity of species to reproduce on their own. It turns out that, when given the right conditions--exposure to sun and soil and a lack of exposure to deer--they're really quite good at it. Backyards can be more likely to offer these conditions than many of New Jersey's forests.

First comes the deluge of seeds, accumulating by the tens,

hundreds

and thousands, on pavement, lawn and in flower beds. These happen to be the achenes of maples that twirled down like helicopter blades from nearby trees to seed every square foot of house, yard and driveway.

They'd even grow on the roof if given a chance.

Meanwhile, last year's seeds have shown smashing success in converting themselves into seedlings, which I pull out by the hundreds if the soil is soft enough, as they pop up anywhere a square inch of soil can be found.

Ash trees,

pin oaks,

American elm,

and the most prolific of all, scores of silver maples.

With sunny areas in the yard being saved for wildflowers, tomatoes, and dreams of a few solar panels, none of these trees get to grow. But they show what trees can do, on their own, when conditions are right.

Birdwalk in the Mist

Plant people like me need extra motivation to show up for a birdwalk at 8am on a misty, moisty Sunday morning. Curiosity proved the deciding factor, specifically the question of whether clouds make birdwatching better or worse. The answer came quickly from seasoned birders. In words ascribed to Roger Tory Peterson,

"No sun, no bugs,
No bugs, no birds."

At the same time, we were seeing lots of birds, or rather, hearing them. The clouds wash out the colors, making everything up in the trees appear black and white. For quite awhile, walking along the gravel road leading into Rogers Refuge below the Institute Woods, there wasn't much lifting of binoculars. Rather, a rapt attention to calls emanating from the trees above. "Northern parula!", someone would say suddenly. "Yellow throat"! "There's a Maggie," which I took to mean Magnolia warbler. Not having a memory for what in music might be called the "upper partials" of the bird world--the songs of less common birds like warblers--I contented myself with recognizing the sputter of a red-bellied woodpecker.

Mixed with the staccato calls of the birders--"Pine warbler", "chestnut-sided"--were two overarching narratives running in contrary motion. One was of lost abundance. Bird numbers are down. What we see now pales in comparison to the 1960's and 70's. Those little green inchworms, so important to converting energy from the oak trees into energy for the warblers' northward migration, are now rarely seen, for reasons unclear. I suggested that the canopy is much higher now than it was forty years ago, so they may simply be out of sight, but hard to say.

The other narrative, more cheering, came from Winnie and Fred Spar, who lead the Friends of Rogers Refuge group. They speak of the resurgence in the shrub layer in the forest, which in turn has provided cover and nesting sites for ovenbirds and other species that have become much more abundant in the refuge. For the first time in 25 years, warbling vireo nests have been sighted there. And it's hard to be too glum when a chestnut-sided warbler is saying "Please, please, please to meet'cha". (check out bird mnemonics at this link).

The Friends group, of which I'm a part, can point to some initiatives that may be making a difference. Some water from the StonyBrook is getting pumped into the lower marsh this year to improve habitat. There's an ongoing battle to keep Phragmitis from taking over the upper marsh, and new birdhouses have been installed. But the biggest factor, less controversial than it used to be, is the hunting and professional sharp shooting that has brought the deer population more into ecological balance. Not many years back, the native spicebush that birds need in the understory had been decimated by the deer. Now it thrives.

People, in effect, through community policy, have taken responsibility for filling the ecological void left when the natural predators of deer were driven from the land. It's a story of how, even as widespread habitat loss and rapidly changing climate work against the birds, people can contribute to restoring balance and diversity.

Frogs are in even more rapid decline around the world, making this sighting of tadpoles particularly welcome.

I found the plants to be a lot easier to see than the birds. They stay in one place, and don't fly off when you approach. Very convenient, though it doesn't always make identification a snap. This small tree, discovered while I was doing an ecological assessment and stewardship plan for the refuge in 2008, still eludes attempts to give it a name.

Clearly related to cherries, it grows here and seemingly nowhere else in Princeton.

Just across the road was another unusual tree, a Golden Larch, whose scientific name, Pseudolarix, is latin for fake larch. Having two unusual species together suggests that the location was either a home site a long time ago, or was otherwise significant enough to be planted.

The golden larch's needles are longer than those typically found on a larch or our native tamarack.

You can see how even this tree's deep green turns black against the white sky. Despite this, we got good looks at the vivid colors of a scarlet tanager, a baltimore oriole and an American redstart.

We headed over to the bird blind, built by the Friends a few years ago, with windows reminiscent of an advent calendar. That's our Washington Crossing Audubon walk leader in front, Mark Witmer.

The walk continued around the refuge's marsh and into Institute Woods. We began talking amongst ourselves more and listening less. I was sidetracked by a patch of umbrella magnolia,

and then headed back to the car, my mind glad for the new population of bird names flitting from one neuron to another: "pine warbler, Canada warbler, hairy woodpecker, chimney swift....." The rain held off, the birds held forth, and curiosity is a good thing to hold on to.

Talk on Duke Farms and Forging a Sustainable Future

Local nonprofits often have excellent speakers at their annual meetings. A brief update on the nonprofit's accomplishments over the past year is followed by the speaker, followed by refreshments. This Wednesday, at the Friends of Princeton Nursery Lands annual meeting, 7:30 to 9pm, you can hear Michael Catania, Executive Director of Duke Farms, speak on The Evolution of Duke Farms from a 2,750 acres private estate to a public learning center and model of sustainable agriculture, ecological restoration and stewardship. 

Michael gave some of us land stewards a tour of Duke Farms recently. Just 15 miles north of Princeton on Route 206, it's a big place with an enabling endowment and transformative plans, many of which are in the process of being realized.

Here's more info from http://fpnl.org/:

The meeting takes place in the Education Building at the Mapleton Preserve/D&R Canal State Park Headquarters, 145 Mapleton Road, Kingston.  The event is open to all, and refreshments will be served.  For further details, please call 609-683-0483.

Restoring Balance in a Raingarden

It seemed a straightforward mission, to put some extra native wildflowers from my backyard in the raingarden at the Senior Center on Harrison Street. The raingarden looked well enough in order, despite minimal attention last year. Rains and cool weather were conveniently imminent, improving the prospects for the transplants' survival. Just a matter of digging eight holes and dropping the new plants in. Half hour, tops.

A closer look, though, revealed a scene more like an unruly classroom where schoolyard bullies were having their way with the meek and the mild. A tree of heaven was pushing up through the Virginia sweetspire shrubs, and that smooth oxeye (Heliopsis helianthoides), celebrated for all the color it added last year, was now sprouting everywhere, poised to dwarf and diminish the hapless competition. Sorrel, ground ivy and mock strawberry were creeping in from the lawn, needing to be pulled out in handfuls before they develop deeper roots. The Jerusalem artichokes I had planted (what was I thinking?) was asserting its underground imperialistic tendencies, making me and all nearby plants pay for the bright yellow blooms it contributed last year. What's a plant lover to do but start ripping out plants in an effort to restore balance? Two hours later, the overly aggressive species lay in a heap, tall plants were shifted to the back, and some semblance of balance was restored.

White Out--Tale of Ten (White) Flowers

They're white, and they're out and about, like this Deutzia. It works as a pruned hedge, but pruning makes it less likely to live up to its name, Deutzia gracilis. Not native, but not invasive.

A Vanhoutte spirea (S. vanhouttei) cascading down next to a sidewalk. Not native but non-invasive.

There are a couple native Spiraea species, one of which, Meadow Sweet (Spiraea alba),  I found growing wild during a plant inventory of Rogers Refuge, deep in the marshy area. Sometimes suburban plantings can have more meaning if one can relate them to the wild relatives growing in more natural systems nearby.

Out in the Princeton wilds, native Umbrella Magnolia (M. tripetala) grows in Institute Woods, with big leaves creating a striking effect in the understory.

Down from Institute Woods, at Rogers Refuge, surrounding the smaller observation tower next to the marsh, grows bladdernut (Staphylea trifolia), a seldom seen native shrub that forms clones and later bears seeds in green "lanterns" reminiscent of Chinese lanterns.

Up from Institute Woods, another native, hawthorn, planted in abundance at the Institute for Advanced Study.

Autumn olive (Elaeagnus umbellata), with silver undersides to the leaves. It's a non-native that can invade fields. Princeton seems to have just a few here and there. A blast from the past: I was on a management committee years back for Penny's Bend in North Carolina, where we were managing the preserve to bring back the glorious prairies that once thrived on special "diabase" soils. Prescribed fire was a very important tool, but also hand removal of invasives that were competing with the rare native wildflowers. Our mission was to remove exotic invasive species like autumn olive, but the caretaker's wife, Hazel, loved making jam using autumn olive berries from an enormous specimen along the driveway. Occasionally at meetings, the topic of the autumn olive would come up, but we never had the heart to cut it down.

Dame's Rocket is a non-native weed that comes in several colors--white, purple, pink. It can be mildly invasive, but seems to pick its spots. There's alot along the Mountain Lakes driveway near Mountain Ave, and also along West Drive on the way to Rogers Refuge.

Garlic mustard has finished blooming, but here's a recent photo of a specimen that is apparently infected with a mosaic virus. This link describes how garlic mustard competes in the U.S. with native wildflowers like Trillium, while in its native Europe its harboring of the mosaic virus can affect commercial crops that are also in the mustard family. On the bright side, it's edible, though this particular specimen doesn't look too appetizing.

This Persian lilac doesn't look very lilac. The small size of this kind of lilac makes it useful in landscaping.

In the same front yard, looking very much like the Persian lilac, is a wildflower in the dogbane family, Amsonia. Related to milkweeds, there are several species native to the U.S., mostly south and west of NJ. This one looks like Arkansas Blue Star (Amsonia hubrichtii), with foliage that turns brilliant orange/yellow in the fall.

Here it's doing fine in regular garden soil, but in the wild it's found, only very rarely, in marshes.