Nature Walk Today at Herrontown Woods, 1pm

(Had posted this at the FOHW.org site, but forgot to post it here.)

Join the Friends of Herrontown Woods on Sunday July 16 at 1pm for a celebratory and interpretive walk along the "new blue trail", which winds through mature forest and early 20th century quarry sites in a seldom seen area of the boulder-strewn preserve. Board member Kurt Tazelaar worked hundreds of hours this spring to find a drier and more interesting route for the Blue Trail through the soggy headwaters of Harry's Brook on the far side of the gasline right of way. The Blue Trail had long been impassible in late winter and spring. The walk will end at Veblen House, the historic house and grounds of the renowned mathematician, visionary and close colleague of Einstein, Oswald Veblen. FOHW is restoring the grounds and negotiating to save the finely crafted house. Town Topics just published an update on our initiative to save the house and other historic structures donated long ago for public use.

Meet at the Herrontown Woods parking lot, off Snowden Lane, across from the entrance to Smoyer Park. Maps can be found at this link.

Photos are of black cohosh, blooming now along the ridge of the preserve, and green-fringed orchid, discovered by the Friends and protected from mowing on the Veblen grounds.

The latest research on the remarkable lives of former occupants of the Veblen House can be found in a post entitled, Happy 111th, Sylvia Jean Whiton-Stuart Hatch Turnure Olcott.

Nature Caught Spying on Nature Writer

All NatureNotes posts should be so easy.

A typical-seeming photo of my desk

that turns out not to be so typical after all.

Good morning, praying mantis, and welcome. Care for some coffee, or are you here to keep an eye on me?


Update: What a praying mantis was doing indoors, and how it might survive, was not immediately obvious. Later in the day, however, during a recording session, a musical "B", slightly out of tune with my guitar, was heard emanating from somewhere on the desk. It was finally tracked down, and turned out to be a fly making the tone of a "B" while having its head eaten by the praying mantis.

Interesting Talk July 19 on John James Audubon

Because Labyrinth Bookstore's website is being updated and doesn't show events, I'm taking the liberty of posting info about this event in its entirety.

Gregory Nobles John James Audubon: The Nature of the American Woodsman  Wednesday, July 19th at 6:00 PM Labyrinth Books Princeton  John James Audubon's The Birds of America stands as an unparalleled achievement in American art, a huge book that puts nature dramatically on the page. With that work, Audubon became one of the most adulated artists of his time, and America's first celebrity scientist. In his fresh approach to Audubon's art and science, Gregory Nobles shows us that Audubon's greatest creation was himself. Please join us for presentation and discussion with the author. A self-made man incessantly striving to secure his place in American society, Audubon made himself into a skilled painter, a successful entrepreneur, and a prolific writer, whose words went well beyond birds and scientific description. He sought status with the "gentlemen of science" on both sides of the Atlantic, but he also embraced the ornithology of ordinary people. In pursuit of popular acclaim in art and science, Audubon crafted an expressive, audacious, and decidedly masculine identity as the "American Woodsman," a larger-than-life symbol of the new nation, a role he perfected in his quest for transatlantic fame. Audubon didn't just live his life; he performed it. In exploring that performance, Nobles pays special attention to Audubon's stories, some of which - the murky circumstances of his birth, a Kentucky hunting trip with Daniel Boone, an armed encounter with a runaway slave - Audubon embellished with evasions and outright lies. Nobles argues that we cannot take all of Audubon's stories literally, but we must take them seriously. By doing so, we come to terms with the central irony of Audubon's true nature: the man who took so much time and trouble to depict birds so accurately left us a bold but deceptive picture of himself. Gregory Nobles is Professor of History Emeritus at the Georgia Institute of Technology. Among his previous books are American Frontiers: Cultural Encounters and Continental Conquest and, with Alfred F. Young, Whose American Revolution Was It? Historians Interpret the Founding.

How To Rescue a Raingarden

It's doing better now. The blue vervain has rebounded impressively. After being mowed down for most of a year, the native grasses--big bluestem, wild rye, and switchgrass--had looked like gonners, but they too have reappeared in numbers and are reaching for the sky.

Most raingardens, like many Americans, lack medical insurance. There's no money to restore their health when the weeds take over. There's money to design them, and install them, and sometimes even regulations that require they be planted. But to keep them thriving and looking good? Well, they're pretty much on their own.

If you think about it, most urban landscapes are cared for by people who know next to nothing about plants. If the medical profession were run like the landscaping business, hospitals would be manned by custodians equipped with leaf blowers and weed whippers, and anyone who came in with a medical issue would be left to fester, then eventually mowed down when they became unsightly. Under such conditions, trees can survive, and some foundation shrubs, but if you're a plant that's neither tree nor shrub nor turfgrass, life could be short.

The landscape architect who designed this raingarden, in a parking lot a few blocks from my house, likely had considerable training, and hopefully makes a decent living, but the designer is long gone and the garden will only survive if it is maintained. Whoever maintains it must know and be able to recognize, at every stage of their growth, not only the intended plants the designer was familiar with, but also the many kinds of weeds that threaten to overwhelm the intended plants. There's no time to pull every last weed, so efficient maintenance requires knowing which weeds pose a serious threat to a balanced planting, and which are benign. And by the way, all the money was spent on design and installation. Nothing's left to pay the people who determine the plantings fate and need the greatest knowledge.

I should have intervened sooner. Instead, a few years ago, having urged those responsible, to no avail, to hire either me or someone else who could give the raingarden the skilled care it needed, I watched as the intended plants got overwhelmed by a bumper crop of 7 foot high pigweed and lambsquarters. The next year, the landscape crew noticed how weedy the raingarden had become, so they mowed it all down and started treating it like a lawn. That's the classic progression: garden to weeds to lawn. The lack of plant knowledge makes most landscape care like a light switch. There are two positions: on and off. You either let it grow "natural" or mow it down. No selective intervention. Our inner gardens, which is to say our bodies, are cared for by knowledgeable people, who provide skilled medical intervention if need be. Why not a raingarden? The answer is that people matter, while saving a raingarden, like saving a livable planet, is considered optional.

Strangely, I feel lucky. Yes, I'm putting in a half hour here and there of volunteer work because of a culture's disconnect with plants, but one thing I learned from my astronomer father was to make a project more interesting by thinking of it as an experiment. How dramatically will a neglected raingarden respond to a little TLC? How little time can be invested and still get a good result?

There's such pleasure--why don't others feel this?--in rescuing a garden like this. Multiple levels of restoration happen at the same time: beauty, diversity, ecological function. And then there's the strategy, like playing bridge--using finesse to gain the best results with the cards you're dealt, dealing with multiple variables as the drama plays out. A different strategy is applied to each kind of weed. This is wild gardening, not total control. Leave the daisy fleabane with its weedy form but attractive flower. It's not doing any harm and won't take over. Take advantage of last night's rain to pull otherwise stubborn weeds out of the softened earth. Find satisfaction in the ease of undercutting a dandelion with a shovel blade. Catch mugwort or Canada thistle early, before they have a chance to spread. Feel the deeply American frontier mix of wit and muscle, mind and body. Live the wisdom of a hand-me-down phrase like "a stitch in time saves nine."

Otherwise, you end up with large swaths smothered with bindweed,

or carpeted with crown vetch. These will take something more than a clean undercutting with a shovel.

The solitary lambsquarter poses no threat at this point, and could end up in a salad.

The amaranth is already some insect's salad.

The smartweed (Polygonum) could prove aggressive, but the Japanese beetles are doing a good job of weakening its spreading tendencies. May as well leave it for now.

Velvet leaf isn't doing any harm, and will likely be eclipsed as the intended plants gain dominance.

Pilewort and

horseweeds are native weeds that grow tall and gangly, contributing to a weedy look if left in.

The catnip is staying for the meantime, though as a mint it could prove aggressive.

The Queen Anne's Lace (the same species that makes the carrots we eat) is pretty, but I've seen it take over fields in the midwest. Maybe remove it after the flowers fade.

There's no perfection here, and no certainty that each decision is the right one, but the results have been heartening, with the original plantings showing more resiliency than expected.

Next time I'm walking the dog over that way, maybe I'll remember to take pruners to trim back the redbud. Perhaps it should be called "casual insistence", this integration of garden rescue into the fabric of one's life, pulling weeds every week or two while the dog waits patiently. There are a few of us in town hard-wired to care in this way, with inner clocks that say "time to go take a look", who find this sort of casually serious and seriously casual persistence with a garden to be satisfying. Perhaps someday more people, maybe even some professional landscape crews, will discover the pleasure, and fewer raingardens will be lost to the weeds.

In the meantime, breathe in the cool air of an early summer evening, and feel like a conductor molding nature's growth force into a symphony, orchestrating the comeback of a raingarden nearly lost to the world.

Mile a Minute--A Wave Growing Across NJ's Countryside

You can spot it a mile away. Early summer, and already this annual, thorn-covered vine called Mile-a-Minute is rising like a wave along fencelines in New Jersey's countryside. Thus far, in my ramblings around Princeton, I have found only two tiny patches--at the Battlefield and along the driveway into Rogers Refuge--both of which have been knocked out the past two years. Is this sort of early intervention and annual followup worth it? The answer becomes abundantly clear just outside of town, halfway to Hopewell, where Mile-a-Minute vine is demonstrating just how much of a prickly menace it can be if not caught early.

It's a plant that seeks to be seen everywhere, and with all the other players on the plant scene. Here it is growing up a tree,

and sprawling over another invasive, garlic mustard.

Even those thistles with their prickly personalities aren't off-putting for a Mile-a-Minute vine.

It's said to have been an accidental introduction from eastern Asia via the nursery trade, originally gaining a foothold in York County, PA, in the 1930s and spreading from there.

Rampancy rules in this photo, as mile-a-minute swarms an autumn olive--a highly invasive shrub. When mile-a-minute's around, the curtain doesn't fall on other plants, but rises, in a wave of triangular leaves.

Here's Mile-a-Minute chasing the growth tip of a blackberry. Check back in a month to see who won the race.

Here, a privet's growing a prickly skirt.

Those pink flowers are Canada thistle, invader of many a garden bed, which is about to meet its match.

Long-time ubiquitous invasives, multiflora rose and Japanese honeysuckle, are joined by Mile-a-Minute.

You'd think perennial vines like wild grape would have a big advantage over an annual vine that has to spring anew from the soil every year, but Mile-a-Minute is looking up to the challenge.

Note the holes in the Mile-a-Minute leaves. Those are most likely from a weevil that was introduced as a biological control. The hope is that the weevil will become numerous enough, and consume enough triangular leaves to slow the wave of Mile-a-Minute engulfing the countryside.

Thus far, the Mile-a-Minute looks undeterred, growing over the slowly maturing fruits of wineberry,

and the pale stems of native black raspberry.

Beyond any ecological impact of such rampancy, it's interesting to reflect on the aesthetic and emotional impact of seeing a landscape being overrun by Mile-a-Minute. A healthy native prairie, for example, teaming with many species of grasses and wildflowers, all reaching for the sun with no inclination to crawl over one another, gives a feeling of striving, freedom, diversity, peaceful cohabitation, tolerance of one species for another. In contrast, a vine like Mile-a-Minute creates a smothering effect, a sense of clutter and thorny entanglement, a suppression of difference, an oppressive dependency that plays out as a punishment for any plant that dare reach a sturdy stem for the sky.

Creating Charging Stations for Pollinators

Gratifying to see the Smoyer Park detention basin growing into its new persona as a native meadow.

Last year's conversion from turf to native grasses and wildflowers came in pretty sparse after the initial seeding in May,

and deer munched on the few flowers that grew to maturity.

This year, the deer's appetite was overwhelmed by black-eyed susans and daisies.

The gaps in the original seeding left room for some of us local wild gardeners to add additional species. Some volunteers with Friends of Herrontown Woods, which has offered to give this wet meadow the tlc it needs to prosper, scattered and raked in wildflower seed from local populations, and planted some live stakes of buttonbush, bareroot transplants of Hibiscus, cutleaf coneflower, and others. Much of it seems to get pulled up, most likely by deer, but even if only a few specimens of these additional species survive, they'll produce their own seed and form viable populations. So many local wildflower species are barely hanging on, essentially isolated genetically. Establishing new populations will make these species more secure and functional--genetically and ecologically. One project underway since about 2006 has been to spread the floodplain species found along the canal into other wet areas of Princeton, be they detention basins, backyards,

or the little raingarden in front of the Whole Earth Center on Nassau Street, which is fed by water from the roof and sidewalk. Think of these wet, sunny spots as charging stations for pollinators during summer months when the local woodlands offer little in the form of pollen.

In the photo is a nursery-grown oak-leafed hydrangia on the right, but the cutleaf coneflowers rising towards bloom on the left are from seeds harvested originally along the towpath.

These elderberries blooming at the Princeton High School wetland, tucked away on the Walnut Street side of the school, began as 2' stem cuttings from along the canal, then pushed into the basin's mud years ago to sprout leaves and roots.

Here's a photo only a botanist could love, of an area of the high school wetland cleared by environmental science students of too-aggressive cattails so the fringed sedges and Hibiscus could thrive. In July and August, this same spot will be in full flower.

The Smoyer Park and Princeton High School detention basins, along with another at Farmview Fields were converted to natives with the help of the Partners for Fish and Wildlife--part of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. It's a good example of how a little input from "big government" can kickstart local initiatives that then can thrive with a few strategic workdays a year.

Common milkweed blew in on its own, a bit of serendipity to augment human intention. We'll see if the monarchs show up.

It can't be emphasized enough that wet, sunny locations are the easiest sort for wild gardening. The soil tends to be soft, making weeding much easier, there are lots of vigorous native species that prosper if the most aggressive species are proactively controlled, and watering tends to take care of itself after the plants have established. It doesn't seem to matter if the soil has much in the way of nutrients. In fact, poor soil can help limit rambunctious weeds, and it's better if the water running through these basins doesn't pick up nutrients that then would end up downstream in Carnegie Lake.

Hands-On Learning About Invasiveness in Plants

Environmental science teacher Jim Smirk brought his kids outdoors this spring to do some hands-on learning at the Princeton High School's very own ecolab wetland. Most people would call it a detention basin, but we planted it long ago with native wetland species that thrive on the beneficent, dependable offerings of the high school's sump pump. Yes, a lowly sump pump provides the consistent water flow that drives this lush community of plants. Without it, most of the plant species, along with the frogs and crayfish, would die out the next time a long drought came along.

Jim enlisted me to provide some history on the planting to three of his classes, and also to explain why this manmade detention basin does such a good job of hosting wetland plants and animals. Like any garden, even a fairly wild one, it still needs intervention to maintain balance, since some of the native species tend to take over. Cattails, lizard's tail, and the native sunflowers spread aggressively underground, while the willows pop up in new places and quickly grow, hogging the sunlight.

Some of the more adventurous students donned waders and began digging up short- and broadleafed cattails so that some of the less aggressive sedges and wildflowers wouldn't be overwhelmed.

Others cut back willow, and removed a non-native plant called starwort that gained a foothold a couple years ago.

The students showed a lot of spirit, and were surprised that working in the mud could actually be fun.

Thanks to Mr. Smirk and his environmental science students for helping keep this wetland thriving right next to Princeton High School.

When Regulation Simplifies Our Lives

Many reflexively contend that regulation makes life harder, more complicated and constricting, and less convenient. And yet, here, in a packed room of people who wanted to learn more about invasive species, was ample evidence of how complicated an unregulated world becomes. Though many imported plant and animal species do not become invasive, the ones that do become a problem that each individual is then left to contend with. Uncontrolled transport of wood for packing crates coming from Asia, for instance, allowed the emerald ash borer to take hold in Michigan, and spread across the eastern U.S., causing millions of homeowners inconvenience and expense as the ash trees in our yards succumb. 

The same holds true for recycling. Because manufacturers can package their products in an endless variety of plastics, metals and papers, each one of us is then imposed upon to compare each piece of empty packaging to a long list of do's and don't's--a daunting project for even the passionate recycler. Packaging is geared towards maximizing purchase and convenience of consumption, leaving in its wake a hugely complex post-consumer dilemma that complicates our lives and fills our landfills and oceans with trash. Why not, instead, require all packaging be widely, easily, and demonstrably recycled, and expect manufacturers to use their ingenuity to figure out how to comply?

These are the sorts of quandaries that pack the community room at the library. If there were no food safety standards, we'd probably be cramming into the library to find out how to identify diseased beef at the unregulated supermarket, just as we'll each be seeking help to deal with the complicating, destabilizing consequences of climate change.

Regulations, if done well, can greatly simplify our lives. That truth needs to be repeated on a regular basis.

A previous post dealt with some aspects of invasive species in Princeton. 

Garlic Mustard Pulling Party--Sunday, 10am

Join us this Sunday, June 11 at 10am, before the day heats up, to pull garlic mustard before its seedpods have a chance to burst. We'll have some refreshments on hand, the better to socialize while snipping off the seedpods. Veblen House is up the gravel driveway across the street from 443 Herrontown Rd, or walk up from the main Herrontown Woods parking lot off of Snowden (map here).

We should be able to get all the remaining garlic mustards--half having been pulled last week by volunteers. Garlic mustard is a biennial, meaning it bears seeds the second year and then dies. If we bag up all the seeds each year, the population will fade away, which is good news for native wildflowers we want to reestablish here next to Veblen House.

The first year, garlic mustard looks like this, gathering energy for the seedhead that it sends up the second year. The species was brought to America by European settlers wanting to have something green to eat in early spring, after the long winter. Unfortunately, the plant has very aggressively spread into nature preserves, crowding out native species. Even after several centuries, the wildlife still don't eat it enough to keep it in check.

Another invasive we'll cut back is wisteria. We have almost vanquished an acre-sized, kudzu-like clone of wisteria that just last year was smothering much of the garden and weakening trees. This year's mild followup is really important to starve the roots of any chance to rebound.

Bring hand-pruners and loppers, if you have them, gloves and work shoes. We'll also provide some tools.

Here's a weed we'll allow to grow: moth mullein, a few of which have popped up in the horse run next to the house.

Other projects of the Friends of Herrontown Woods (FOHW) to promote sustainable landscaping include caring for a detention basin at nearby Smoyer Park. The basin was converted from turfgrass to native grasses and wildflowers. FOHW is proactively removing highly aggressive weeds like Canada thistle and crown vetch before they can get established, and adding local native wildflowers like this Hibiscus moscheutos to increase diversity and color.

Using Flowers To Read a Landscape

Flowers, like fall colors, create a color-coded landscape that can provide a snapshot of trends in plant populations. Blooms have seemed especially abundant this spring, with native dogwoods and Rhododendrons laden with flowers, and now the elderberries, Korean dogwoods and catalpas showing profusion. Catalpas have a knack for sprouting along edges, then spreading their branches of elephant ear leaves (front right in photo), tubular flowers and long seed pods up and over everything else. The branches take interesting, gnarly shapes. When catalpas are in flower, it's easy to notice how they have gained dominance in that prime front-row seating along the edge of this clearing, on waste ground near the Princeton Shopping Center. The opening itself is being taken over by Chinese bushclover, which also tends towards exclusionary dominance.