What Lives Next to Us

"What worries me more is that most Americans know little of — and care even less about — the spectacular natural diversity surrounding every one of us. We are ignorant of the rainbow of warblers — dozens of species — passing through in migration each spring. We overlook the orchids growing in roadside ditches. Most of us cannot identify what’s singing or croaking or buzzing in our own backyards....

If we do not know what lives next to us, we will not notice when it’s gone."

Bryan Pfeiffer, The Extinction of Meaning

The Sycamore Greenway, like many other trails and natural areas, is a haven for wildlife. It doesn't require a lot of upkeep (though it could certainly benefit from some thinning of trees growing in the northern basins, and some wild parsnip mitigation in the south), just some native grasses and forbs and a bit of space.

The Greenway gives us access to so many small lives that we otherwise wouldn't see. I can plant my entire yard with native flowers and enjoy the bees, butterflies and other insects that come...but they are stuck on an island amid acres of barren turfgrass, some of it laced with poisons from neighbors less tolerant of functioning ecosystems on their property.

The Greenway, on the other hand, offers dozens of acres of mostly unbroken habitat, where common suburban species mingle with slightly less common neighbors. This blog, and the related Facebook page, were meant to introduce people to these neighbors and hopefully inspire, if not the wonder and awe of magnificent endangered megafauna, at least affection for these tiny inhabitants of our own local natural areas.

Without the Greenway, would I have encountered this odd little Physocephala fly, with its flared antennae, waspy waist and two-toned wings? Who knew there were so many different kinds of flies in our area? Obviously, the abundance and vast variety of insects is no secret, but it becomes so much more meaningful when you meet some of these little guys in person.

And these are just the obvious individuals who politely hang out in highly-visible areas on flowers and leaves--imagine getting down in the weeds and grass, how many more different flies would we find--let alone grasshoppers, wasps, bees, ants, beetles, and hundreds of other insects (not to mention all their larvae), all sharing the same space and playing their own small, essential role in it.

Would we miss this Physocephala fly if it were to disappear? Or any one of the hundreds of species out in our backyards? Probably not. But that doesn't make them any less worthy of getting to know.

A Visit to Big Grove

Yesterday morning I skipped the Greenway and instead went to Big Grove Preserve for an informative hike, guided by property steward Ken Lowder. Big Grove is a Bur Oak Land Trust property just a few minutes' drive from Iowa City (Bur Oak owns and maintains 11 properties in and around Johnson County, which are open to the public). It takes a couple of gravel roads to get there, and some poorly-placed "Private Property" signs erected by neighboring property owners may make you think you are on the wrong track (neither the access road nor the preserve are "Private Property" so don't be discouraged if you are trying to visit), but it is worth the trip.

Big Grove consists of a 40-acre parcel of original land along with a newer acquisition of another 40 acres. There is a small patch of prairie flowers near the entry, swarming with butterflies and other pollinators, but most of the land is shady woods. The plant life is much different from that of the sunny Greenway, with tall oaks and hickory towering over white clusters of snakeroot, zigzag goldenrod and occasional blue lobelia. An ephemeral creek runs amid rocky, moss-draped outcroppings.

It is a quiet getaway; visitors can expect silence punctuated by calls of resident pileated woodpeckers, or warbler song as they migrate through. As we walked, Ken told us about some of the history of the land and the work that goes into restoring and maintaining forest.

  When Bur Oak acquired the original 40 acres in 2003, it was overrun with non-natives like garlic mustard, honeysuckle, autumn olive, and multiflora rose--all of which grow thick in the understory and choke out desirable native plants. The property stewards, with help from regular volunteer groups, worked tirelessly to cut back the invaders, giving other species room to grow. The difference between a piece of forest that has been maintained and one that has been left "wild" is night and day: a scrubby, prickly, and impassible area transforms to an open wood that you could drive a cart through (as the woods were described by early settlers). The trees naturally have few lower branches, since they don't receive enough sunlight below the canopy to make them worth the effort to maintain.

Unmaintained woods

Woods after cutting back invasives and burning

As you walk through the woods, you will encounter many tall trees that are girdled, with circular cuts all around their base. These are specimens that have been condemned to die so that the forest may live: for the native oak and hickory populations to thrive, their saplings require sunlight. By selectively killing (but not removing--their corpses provide valuable habitat for cavity-nesting birds) less-desirable trees, the canopy is opened up to allow more sun to reach the forest floor so those saplings can grow.

Early stages of what will be oak savanna.

After a short climb in the newly-acquired parcel, Ken showed us an open section of land that had been used (and was still being used) as pasture, which Bur Oak is planning to restore to an oak savanna. Oak savannas are scenic transition areas between woods and prairie, with grasses and forbs growing in the open sun punctuated by occasional bur oak trees. These savanna trees grow differently from their forest brethren; because they are not competing shoulder-to-shoulder with other trees for sun, they are able to spread their limbs and maintain strong, sturdy low branches. These oaks can survive hot prairie fires that kill competing trees, creating a unique habitat--and a lovely vista.

Although it is wonderful to see land being conserved by Bur Oak Land Trust and other trusts around our state, it is overwhelming how much work goes into simply maintaining them in their "natural state." Because of the invasion of aggressive non-native plants, we can't just leave areas "wild" and expect them to stay "wild." We must treat them instead as huge gardens, constantly weeding out the undesirable and planting and preserving the desirable. And that takes a lot of work--most of it done by hardy volunteers like Ken Lowder and the many other individuals and groups who give their time and sweat to preserve a little bit of our natural heritage.

Moths All Around Us

I know this one at least! Chickweed Geometer (Haematopis grataria)

Since  my misadventure with the Camouflaged Looper/Wavy-lined Emerald recently, I've had more awareness of moths in general. I always knew they were out there; almost every time you walk through the grass on the Greenway you scare up a tiny fluttering thing. I would think, "Eh, it's just a moth" and then continue to chase down the bee or butterfly I had seen earlier.

Not anymore! That little green moth opened my eyes to another world. An often-nocturnal, skulking bunch of insects that normally escapes our attention, save when we see them fluttering around a porch light in the dark, or happen upon one of the magnificent giant specimens that may have expired in the parking lot at work (that one was an imperial moth).

I splurged on a guide: Peterson's Field Guide to Moths of Northeastern North America. What a great investment! The images are all photos of live moths--none of those washed-out pinned specimens. And my favorite part: common names! Unlike the bee world, where few bees go by common names, the authors of this guide list a common name for every moth (if a moth didn't already have a widely-used common name, they assigned one). Weird, wonderful common names like Tearful Underwing, Maple Trumpet Skeletonizer, Somber Carpet, and Drab Prominent. They all sound like bugs I would like to get to know.

Next time I went out on the Greenway, I was determined to try to photograph as many moths as I could. It proved tricky, since they--unlike their flashier butterfly kin--don't seem to want attention. Drab, cryptic coloration, small size, and a tendency to stick to grass and greenery instead of flowers all make it difficult to capture them in pixels. Not to mention their annoying habit of clinging to the bottom of a blade of grass instead of the top!

I was surprised at how many different kinds of moth I saw, just on a short jaunt. I am not yet quick enough with the guide to identify them, but identify them I shall. And if you are a neighbor, do not be alarmed if you see me out in the garden with a headlamp and camera; I'm just looking for moths!