Mountain Vacation

Kim and I took our annual trip to the mountains last week. We’ve been refining our vacation strategy over the last several years, having recognized that we want somewhat different things from our trips. Kim wants to do some hiking and trail running, combining exercise and exploration. I want to camp where I can get decent morning and evening light for photography, and enough open area that it feels like I’m in a prairie – not closed in by steep mountains and dense forest.

Cutleaf coneflower (Rudbeckia laciniata) with mountains in the background.

Both of us enjoy solitude (except for each other’s company), so backpacking is a good way to get away and find some peace and quiet. However, I don’t really enjoy long-distance backpacking because I’d rather spend my time wandering slowly around with a camera. The compromise we reached this year is that we’d do a short backpacking trip and find a good spot to set up a base camp, from which we could both spend our time doing what we wanted for a few days.

I spent an inordinate amount of time scouting for potential sites. I finally narrowed it down to a part of the Weminuche Wilderness in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado. It was near a couple streams where we could get drinking water, there were multiple nearby trails Kim could run/hike, and there was a large open meadow surrounded by attractive peaks. Perfect. Also, it was only about three miles from a trailhead, so it was a short, easy backpacking trip to get there.

Cutleaf coneflower
Aphids on cutleaf coneflower
Coneflower after a late evening rain

During our trip west, I suddenly realized that the drought (and lack of winter snowfall) in the mountains this year might mean the streams in our selected camping area might not be running. I sent an email to someone with a trails organization in the area, hoping against hope to get a local report. Surprisingly, I got a quick response, which provided an optimistic guess that we’d be ok, especially because of recent rains. We decided to plow ahead.

We both breathed a big sigh of relief when we reached the creek we’d planned to camp near and there was water running aross the rocks (see below). We were even happier when we found a campsite next to a couple spring-fed seems with fresh clear water coming out of them. Though we didn’t know it at the time, the campsite also featured an entertaining long-tailed weasel who showed up a couple times during our stay and ran back and forth on some downed logs.

The stream we’d planned to get drinking water from

In case you’re intereseted, we started at the Poison Park trailhead north of the Williams Creek Reservoir and hiked the Weminuche Trail to a meadow labeled “Miner Park”, where we camped near Hossick Creek.

While the campsite was really nice, the meadow I’d seen from aerial photos was beautiful in some ways but was also full of invasive plants and pretty low on native wildflowers and plant diversity There was a lot of musk thistle, Canada thistle, burdock, houndstongue, Timothy, etc. – probably as a result of some long years of overgrazing, either historically, recently, or both. Fortunately, there was still a lot of beauty to photograph and after an initial period of disappointment, I readjusted my expectations and ended up having a great couple of days. I photographed fewer plant species than I’d planned, but that pushed me to spend more time with each of them, which wasn’t a bad thing.

Musk thistles and other invasive plants in the meadow we camped in
Fleabane flowers and mountains
Fleabane up close
Aspen leaf and rain drops
Close-up of corn lily (Veratrum californicum)

I was really pleased to find a big population of northern green orchid along the little seep near our campsite. There are few of these plants at the Niobrara Valley Preserve, hanging on in the cool, damp, wooded environments along the spring-fed streams leading from the Sandhills into the Niobrara River. Stumbling across one or two is always a pleasant surprise at NVP, but there were dozens of the little gems in a small area near our camp. Awesome.

Northern green orchid (Platanthera aquilonis)
Northern green orchid
Fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium) along Hossick Creek
Fungus in the forest
Mushrooms on a rotting log
Coral slime mold (?) and lichen on a rotting log

We experienced the typical wide range of weather conditions while we camped including bright sun, thunderstorms, dark overcast skies, and starlit/moonlit nights. I worked with the light provided and happily explored the area within about a mile of our campsite. Kim went on long jaunts up and down nearby trails and also had a great time. Because she explored further, she got to see a moose that I didn’t. On her return trip down one trail, she also found bear tracks on the trail that weren’t there when she’d gone past the first time. That, along with some recent claw marks on aspens near our camp, reinforced the need for our bear-aware practices to keep us and our food safe.

On our last night at camp, the moon rose and lit up the landscape shortly after sunset, illuminating nearby mountain ridges and a thunderstorm passing to our north. I stayed up way too late photographing the scenes, walking around without the need for a flashlight (and trying not to imagine every dark shadow as a bear).

Moonlit sky with clouds and stars
Moonlight, trees, and mountains
My tent

After three nights of camping, we traveled back east a ways and stayed in a motel near one last trail we’d decided to explore. The Rosalie Trail starts at the same trailhead used by people climbing Mount Bierstadt – a popular and relatively accessible 14,000-foot peak. We arrived early in the morning to assure ourselves a parking spot at the trailhead, but didn’t follow the horde of headlamp-wearing mountaineers up the Mt. Bierstadt trail. Instead, we forked off to the west and were gratified that we’d correctly predicted we’d have the Rosalie Trail to ourselves. We hiked together for about a half mile before I started taking photos and Kim took off on her 13-mile hike/run.

Pre-sunrise light in the alpine (Mount Blue Sky Wilderness)
More pre-sunrise light
The setting moon just as the sun was rising
The Rosalie Trail at dawn
The Rosalie Trail at dawn

I wandered around the alpine within about a mile or two of the trailhead before heading back to the car mid-morning. I then drove down to the far end of the trail to pick Kim up at the end of her run. We both agreed it had been a fun week but that it was time to head home.

So we did.

Mule deer near the trail head
Least chipmunk
Alpine clover (Trifolium dasyphyllum) (I think?) and alpine meadow
Alpine meadow along the Rosalie Trail

Now we’re on the hunt for a similar experience in a different place next summer. If you happen to have suggestions, we’d be wide open to them. Again, our main criteria are: access to multiple nearby trails – ideally between 9,000 and 10,000 feet elevation and not so steep Kim can’t run at least sections of them; open areas of grasses/wildflowers and good morning/evening light for me and my photography, and access to streams or lakes for water. We enjoy being able to pack in a little ways and set up a campsite where we can have some solitude for a few days while we each pursue our favorite activies.

Those bugs are eating my flowers! What do I do?

A couple weeks ago, I arrived at our family prairie to find a couple milkweed plants being assaulted by Japanese beetles. That wasn’t a surprise. My understanding is that Japanese beetles have been in the U.S. since about 1916. They’re widely considered to be an invasive species because they are both non-native and because they can cause significant damage to both crops and native plants. I’ve been watching them in prairies for a while, paying attention to what plants they use and trying to decide how big a threat they might be.

As you can see from the photos below, a horde of the little buggers was really working over some of the common milkweed at our prairie. That seems bad, right? Maybe, but the more important question is, “What should we be doing about it?”

Japanese beetles feeding on the leaves of common milkweed
The aftereffects of Japanese beetles on a nearby common milkweed plant
They also eat the flowers

Japanese beetles feed on lots of other native prairie plants besides common milkweed. Some of their favorites around here include lead plant, round-headed bushclover, and tick clovers (aka tick trefoils), but there’s a very long list of prairie plant species I’ve seen Japanese beetles feeding on – often in large numbers.

Japanese beetles on fourpoint evening primrose at The Nature Conservancy’s Platte River Prairies this summer

Several years ago, I wrote a post about my frustration with having to answer questions about whether certain insect species are beneficial or pests. I still don’t like those characterizations and I stand by what I wrote. In that same post, I also said that there are some truly invasive insect species in North America, though, and I listed Japanese beetles as an example. I still stand by that, too – they are invasive.

However, that still doesn’t answer the question about how to handle them.

Look at the photos below. They show a native sunflower (stiff sunflower) being ravaged by some little brown leaf beetles. You can see that the flowers are being functionally destroyed by the beetles – they’re eating all parts of the flower and it will be unable to produce seeds as a result. Is that bad? Does it matter that the beetle is a species native to North America? Should we do something about it?

Leaf beetles (Metrioidea) on stiff sunflower
The little beetles are really working that flower over

The photo below shows some yellow sunflower moth caterpillars feeding on stiff sunflower. They’re having a similar impact to the flower that the beetles in the above photos are having. The caterpillar is also a native species. Do we just let it happen or should we intervene?

Yellow sunflower moth caterpillars on stiff sunflower

There’s a lot of discussion these days about what species are invasive or pests and which aren’t. Does it matter whether they’re native or not? Should we just stop even thinking about invasive species as problems and live with them? It’s a good discussion to have, though I think the answer to the last question is an easy “no” – or, at least, “no, we can’t just ignore all invasive species and hope things will turn out for the best.”

Again, the real question is “what do we do?” As a land steward, my answer to this hinges on whether a species is working against my big objectives. My biggest objective is to facilitate ecological resilience, which largely depends on species diversity and the size and connectivity of habitat. As a result, when I’m thinking about how to respond to a plant or animal that seems potentially problematic, I ask myself if it seems to be decreasing resilience. Is it fragmenting habitat and decreasing the ability of prairie species to use or thrive in that area? Is it monopolizing resources and simplifying the plant or animal community it has moved into? If the answer is yes, I feel like action needs to be considered. Those questions, by the way, apply to both native and non-native species.

In the case of plant species that are reducing the diversity of the plant community, sometimes my response is to try to kill and/or eradicate them from a site. That’s usually only the strategy if the species has just started to invade and I think we can still get rid of it without undue harm from whatever approach we plan to take (often either manual removal or herbicide treatment). More often, the strategy is to make sure our larger management actions are helping to prevent them from becoming dominant enough to cause problems. Sometimes, that means targeting the plants with mowing, fire, or grazing outside our larger stewardship approach. Other times, the general way we’re managing for plant diversity does the job just fine.

Eastern tent caterpillars (a native species) dismantling large chunks of a willow copse at The Nature Conservancy’s Niobrara Valley Preserve

Returning to insects… At the moment, I’m not doing any invasive insect control efforts at my family prairie, nor are we doing anything like that on lands we manage at The Nature Conservancy here in Nebraska. The simplest reason is that none of the insects appear to be causing enough negative impact to warrant any action. Japanese beetles definitely hit some plants hard, but I’ve never seen them take out the majority of plants in a population. When I took the above photos of Japanese beetles, there were lots of milkweed and/or evening primrose plants nearby that weren’t being visited by the beetles. Plus, I’ve noticed some plant species (lead plant is a great example) that look really bad when the beetles are done with them, but still produce seeds by the end of the year.

And, of course, if I’m not going to do anything about Japanese beetles, I’m also not going to do anything with native leaf beetles or caterpillars eating stiff sunflowers, tent caterpillars eating willows, or any other similar examples – even if some of the effects can look pretty dramatic. The reason is the same. I’m not seeing any evidence those species are affecting the species diversity or resilience of the ecological communities I’m managing.

Saying all this, I’m not trying to say no one should ever worry about invasive or other insects that cause potentially negative impacts. Different standards apply to insect damage to food crops, for example. In our home garden, we sometimes take action to save our spinach or squash plants from being destroyed by insects. We sometimes pick Japanese beetles off our zinnias and rhubarb and dump them in soapy water to save those plants.

Most times, however, we’re happy to see (or at least are fine with) insects devouring the flowers, seeds, leaves, or stems of the plants in our yard. We have a diversity of native plants (and some non-native flowers and shrubs) in our yard BECAUSE we want to help invertebrates and other wildlife, so the fact that those plants are being used as food is a success.

Our farmer neighbors have to make difficult decisions about whether an insect population is going to have enough effect on their yield that they need to do something about it. Those decisions are then followed by similarly difficult decisions about what action might look like (pesticide application? biocontrol introduction? inclusion of field boundaries planted with vegetation that might reduce insect damage to crops?)

In ecological systems, though, I’m comfortable with the standard I’m applying. If a species is reducing the resilience of a site we’re managing, we have an obligation to mitigate that. It can be hard to divorce ourselves from the emotion of seeing a plant get decimated by a crawling mass of invertebrates. Stepping back to put that scene in context with the broader area, though, usually helps answer the question about whether or what to do anything about it. After all, one of the benefits of facilitating ecological resilience is that it gives prairies the ability to adapt and absorb impacts, including Japanese beetles shredding some plants here and there.