In praise of weeds

I wasn't about to let an all-day torrential downpour keep me couped up. Since it was at least warm, I decided to go for a run down to the river. I was soaked within 30 seconds or so. But I didn't get any wetter after that.

Unfortunately, I didn't bring my camera, but I saw a lot of erosion. It was especially acute in a floodplain area hit by a T0 tornado about 6-8 weeks prior. Instead of leaving all the debris, it appears the municipal land managers took a lot (not all) of it away, keeping with the "slick and clean" agricultural ethic of the Hoosier state. Several large patches were scraped bare, and now gullies were beginning to form. My mind turned toward erosion.

I'm aware that many folks lump almost all of my beloved native plants - perrenial, biennial, annual, grass, sedge, forb, and shrub - as "weeds". But ecological restorationists also have their weeds. We often find themselves trying to take disturbed sites and attempting to move them along to a more "mature" ecological community. We measure this by giving each plant a number from 0 - 10 (varying by state), it's "coefficient of conservatism" (C-value). Without elaborating to much, "The
conservatism concept is based upon the recognition that individual plant species display
varying degrees of tolerance to disturbance and likewise varying degrees of fidelity to
specific natural habitats" (Rothrock, 2004). Thus, we generally* like sites that have a high mean-C (average C-value of all the plants), one with lots of plants that are normally associated with high-quality, undisturbed natural areas. Low mean-C sites are considered disturbed and a little "weedy". Here, opportunistic species have moved in and won't let more conservative species in. Since this is a simple, quantitative measure, sometimes low-C sites are quickly judged as not good enough.**

Polygonum pensylvanicum (pinkweed/smartweed). A weed, by all accounts. C-value = 0.

But "weeds" serve a very important role: reducing soil erosion. More conservative (and usually perennial) plants might not be developed by the time the next big storm roles in. So the weeds move in and hold the soil in the meanwhile. Given enough time without disturbance, plant communities will (usually) shift to a more conservative plant community.

Soil is foundational to the biotic community. No soil, no plants (that includes food plants). It's genesis takes decades, centuries... millennia. Much can be lost in a single weekend, to say nothing of decades of poor management.***

Whoops, there goes a century.

We shouldn't be surprised that we live in a world of weeds. Never before has the earth seen so much bare dirt. And lawn mowers. I'll admit it's a little depressing to see so many restoration sites dominated by the same crappy plants I see in every ditch and parking lot. But, native or no, the weeds may be better short-term alternative to protect long-term ecological and human assets.

Mimulus ringens (Monkey flower). C-value = 4, meaning that it is found about equally in disturbed and high-quality sites. This was at a wetland restoration where it was probably planted.

  

Carex aurea (Golden sedge). C-value = 9 in Indiana, though I found this in Wisconsin. Don't expect to find this in a ditch. It is quite short, and I held this one aloft to, um, enhance its grandeur.

*This is something of an oversimplification for blog's sake

**Plants that are both non-native to a region and invasive by habit are a related, but sometimes distinct, problem. The most problematic ones are perennial. They are customarily assigned a C-value of zero.

***Of course, erosion is a natural process, even in a floodplain. If a flood is "gradual" and high enough, more sediment can be deposited and the process can begin again. Better cultural practices have reduced erosion in recent times, but it is still a problem in many/most areas.

North Country Trail - Rogue River Game Area

Forgot my camera, so no pictures. This was an early May hike/bike.

Hiking consistently about every other weekend for four months has really helped me appreciate the change in seasons. The beauty, subtlety, and quiet, timeless power of the forest is unchanging. This was the first time that mosquitoes became something of a nuisance, that I start worrying about poison ivy and ticks.

I slept in the woods a couple nights by myself. A little spooky looking at a trio of glowing eyes staring at me. Barred owls calling. Spotted what I think was a ruffed grouse, which was  a first for me. Coincidentally, it was the day after I watched The Big Year. Yes, Hollywood actually made a movie (mostly) about birding. Don't expect that again. I liked it.

Scarier still was the old arrow I found propped against my car tire when I hike the 50 yards out from my campsite in the morning. What. The. Hail. I got out of there quick, not knowing what it signified. The land is a state game area. Though it's multiple-use, it's funded by and specifically designed for hunters. Any idea what that arrow meant?

Snakes! I saw another blue racer. He was a little guy, apparently battle-worn as he had a blunted, scarred tail. As such, he could not try to scare me with a fake rattle (as the first one I saw did). He coiled right up and stared me down as I approached. Kids, don't try this at home, but I try to grab him. He bit me - lightning fast - then scrambled off. Only one little drop of blood to show, and hardly as painful as a thorn-prick. Note to self: wild animals are always faster than you. Always.

Five seconds down the trail, I saw his much bigger (and intact) cousin. Not learning my lesson, I slowly approached. He gave me the leaf-rattle warning, elongated and looking over his snake shoulder at me. I took one step closer and he sped off like his name suggests.

I'm now up to about 90 miles hiked and 50 miles biked on the North Country Trail.

who said it? #139 Job, on what animals teach us

But ask the animals, and they will teach you,
       or the birds of the air, and they will tell you;

or speak to the earth, and it will teach you,
       or let the fish of the sea inform you.

Which of all these does not know
       that the hand of the LORD has done this?

In his hand is the life of every creature
       and the breath of all mankind.

(Job 12:7-10, NIV 1984)

who said it? #137 bird love, general and specific

When I was in college, and for many years after, I liked the natural world. Didn’t love it, but definitely liked it. It can be very pretty, nature. And since I was looking for things to find wrong with the world, I naturally gravitated to environmentalism, because there were certainly plenty of things wrong with the environment. And the more I looked at what was wrong — an exploding world population, exploding levels of resource consumption, rising global temperatures, the trashing of the oceans, the logging of our last old-growth forests — the angrier I became.

Finally, in the mid-1990s, I made a conscious decision to stop worrying about the environment. There was nothing meaningful that I personally could do to save the planet, and I wanted to get on with devoting myself to the things I loved. I still tried to keep my carbon footprint small, but that was as far as I could go without falling back into rage and despair.

But then a funny thing happened to me. It’s a long story, but basically I fell in love with birds. I did this not without significant resistance, because it’s very uncool to be a birdwatcher, because anything that betrays real passion is by definition uncool. But little by little, in spite of myself, I developed this passion, and although one-half of a passion is obsession, the other half is love.

And so, yes, I kept a meticulous list of the birds I’d seen, and, yes, I went to inordinate lengths to see new species. But, no less important, whenever I looked at a bird, any bird, even a pigeon or a robin, I could feel my heart overflow with love. And love, as I’ve been trying to say today, is where our troubles begin.

Because now, not merely liking nature but loving a specific and vital part of it, I had no choice but to start worrying about the environment again. The news on that front was no better than when I’d decided to quit worrying about it — was considerably worse, in fact — but now those threatened forests and wetlands and oceans weren’t just pretty scenes for me to enjoy. They were the home of animals I loved.

And here’s where a curious paradox emerged. My anger and pain and despair about the planet were only increased by my concern for wild birds, and yet, as I began to get involved in bird conservation and learned more about the many threats that birds face, it became easier, not harder, to live with my anger and despair and pain.

How does this happen? I think, for one thing, that my love of birds became a portal to an important, less self-centered part of myself that I’d never even known existed. Instead of continuing to drift forward through my life as a global citizen, liking and disliking and withholding my commitment for some later date, I was forced to confront a self that I had to either straight-up accept or flat-out reject.

Jonathan Franze, Technology provides an alternative to love (NYT op-ed)

I've been keeping track of my birding on my other blog...