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A LETTER HOME by Partner Jo Fleming
Dear Mother and Father Your box of gifts arrived with the last stagecoach, and we are so grateful for your thoughtfulness. The children are delighted with the schoolbooks, and especially the slates, as now each has their own. They were weary with learning letters and words form the Bible, and the sonnets and poems of Shakespeare were the only other books I have, and interested the children not at all. Never did we think of teaching the children when we packed to travel here to settle. Then, we had a wonderful surprise. The widow Macon packed up her babes and went back to her family in Pennsylvania, and has sold the farm. The new family arrived this past fortnight, a couple near our ages, with children in the same ages. Mary has had as much schooling as I have, and loves history as much as I love English, so we have decided to do some teaching together. We may even take some time to teach the girls embroidery; there has never been time to teach more of these female arts, other than knitting. The boys will be going out with the men for hunting, and that will help the Huff family, as this is not a good time for re-settling, and they knew this, but brought many supplies to start out with. When we went to visit, we did find that the Macon's had planted a garden before Jacob’s death, and the root vegetables had survived. The deer had broken down the fences, and devastated most all-else. We will share as we can, and we are sure the other neighbors will do the same. Hunting will bring them abundant meat, and we will have a barn raising as soon as harvest is over, but before winter sets in. Our garden and our animals are all doing well. Bossie is with calf, and all the goats are thriving. The Huffs have said that if Bossie’s offspring is a cow, they would like to buy it, and also a pig or two. We have been so fortunate, as John loves the farm, and seems to thrive on the work, as hard as it is. He is so gland to have got away from the city. I was apprehensive about this move, but now am happy, and we have a lovely family. I do wish you could see the children, Mother. Young John looks just like his father, but George looks like Father, and the girls all resemble you. They are growing fast. This year we are hoping to acquire some sheep, so that I may weave our own fabrics. John has already cut two Beech trees he found and has them aging so as to build me a loom. Mr. Morrison, of the trading post has said that one of the families who trade there will have some wool to sell. Possible I will be able to buy some and begin spinning. With the influx of so many new settlers, Mr. Morrison is adding on to his post. It is now called a “General Store”. John says there will be so much more merchandise and that we will travel there after harvest to visit. The children are so excited and I am too. We accept whatever entertainment we can find. We are hoping to gather several of the neighbor families and start having prayer meetings. We could each host the gatherings. It might lead to a formal school and church in time. Today the children found the blackberry patch and we will have a dumpling tonight. Tomorrow we will make jam. They also found another wild apple tree and it has much fruit, so we will feast! Are we not most fortunate? We all send our love to you both and wishes for your health Love,from your daughter, Lidabel |
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Where have all the snakes gone? By Nicolette L. Cagle This
summer, I resumed my quest to discover why snake population sizes have
declined in Illinois’ remnant prairies. During long, sweltering days of
marking and releasing snakes captured at 22 prairie sites in northern
Illinois, I found myself motivated by the noble, and increasingly
elusive, blue racer (Coluber constrictor foxii).
The blue racer, famous for its iridescent smoky-blue coloring and
lightning speed, used to be abundant in the upper Midwest. Now this
dignified snake, once found in isolated, underground hibernacula
containing hundreds of individuals, has vanished from Minnesota and
rapidly declined in regions of heavy agriculture and suburban land use
within its shrinking range.
Distressingly,
this summer I captured fewer snakes of fewer species at all of my
research sites. At Goose Lake Prairie I found only two species, the
common garter snake and the blue racer. I fear that fast cars and last
summer’s drought denied me live specimens of once common species, like
the plains garter snake and western fox snake. The only western fox
snakes seen this year were dead on the roadways. My snake research,
this summer, continues until mid-September. ______________________ Nicolette L. Cagle is an Ecology Ph.D. Candidate, Duke University, Durham, NC. This is the second of a series of articles on Snakes at Goose Lake Prairie that she has written for the Tg Jl.. |
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FIRE, WIND, by Art Rohr, adapted from Peterson’s Field
Guild on the North American Prairie.
( April 2006 issue) The Cheyenne and other Plains Indians sometimes referred to prairie fires as "red buffalo," in part because the fires roared across the grasslands bringing renewed growth in their wake, The Lakota named the winds after gods who descended from the sky to establish the Four Directions and complete the circle of life. All Plains Indian peoples held the Bison as sacred. These reverent attitudes grew in part from an intimate understanding of how fire, wind, drought, and grazing animals shape and maintain prairie ecosystems. Without these forces, our grasslands would dwindle in size and become much less varied. Periodic fires burned throughout the prairie
region, blackening hundreds of square miles at a time. In tallgrass prairies,
fires raged as fast as 40 miles per hour and sent flames 30 feet or more into
the air. Elk and deer scattered before the rolling clouds of black smoke. Herds of Bison and groups of people on
horseback could be swallowed up by the conflagration. Newcomers to the prairie found the fires both
frightening and alluring. While
canoeing up the Minnesota River in 1847, George Featherstonhaugh watched a fire
burn for days. Before going to my
pallet, I made another journey to the upland behind the Fort, to see the
prairies on fire. It is a spectacle one
in is never tired of looking at: half the horizon appeared like an advancing
sea of fire, with dense clouds of smoke flying towards the moon. Lightning, especially on the arid plains during
late summer and early fall, started many fires. A high percentage of fires in the tall grass region were
deliberately set by Plains Indian - to signal, to drive game, to repel the
enemy, to create a defensible perimeter around villages, or to encourage growth
of new grass that attracted Bison herds.
Lewis and Clark commented on the prevalence of smoke and fire in the
Missouri River Valley. On March 6,
1805, Lewis wrote, "...a cloudy morning and smoky all day from the burning
of the plains of which was set on fire by the Mine tarries for an early crop of
grass, an inducement for all the Buffalo to feed on. When these explorers wanted to parlay with groups of Indians,
they followed the regional custom of igniting the prairie to signal their
intentions. The effects of prairie fires vary depending on time
of year, Weather, fire intensity and frequency, and the type and condition of
prairie. In tall grass prairies, fires
typically reduce the litter layer, allowing rainfall and nutrients in the ash
to quickly enter ground and sunlight to bake the soil. Rhizome and tiller
growth of dominant grasses generally increases after a fire. Under certain
conditions, particularly in late summer and early fall, fires may lead to
greater diversity of native forbs. Frequent spring fires often decrease species
diversity, however, by stimulating growth of dominant grasses. In short grass and mixed‑grass prairies, the
impacts of periodic fires are less well understood. But virtually all fires in
all regions of the prairie kill or damage invading trees and shrubs. Even fire resistant trees such as Quaking
Aspen and Bur Oak wither before repeated waves of flame. Vast areas of prairie,
from central Nebraska, Kansas, and Oklahoma east to Ohio and Missouri, have
become overgrown by trees since fire suppression began during mid‑nineteenth
century. Most prairie grasses are fire‑adapted, meaning they
evolved with and can benefit from fire. Since grass stems grow from the base
rather than from the tip, they recover quickly after being lipped or burned
away. In many prairie grasses, the apical
meristem, the point from which cell growth is initiated, is located
underground. Many grasses are long‑lived perennials with
extensive root systems. Ninety percent or more of their mass may lie
underground, insulated from disturbances. In experiments conducted at Konza Prairie
in the Kansas Flint Hills, areas that were periodically burned and grazed
produced a higher volume of grasses and forbs over time than did areas that
were neither burned nor grazed. Like fire, wind and drought help to create
grasslands and rid them of trees. Because the North American prairie region
lies in the center of the continent where major weather systems collide, it
experiences some of the most violent weather on Earth. Warm, moist air from the Gulf of Mexico
clashes with frigid arctic air and hurricane‑force winds sweeping eastward off
the Rocky Mountains. The resulting
instability and turbulence cause startling temperature fluctuations and violent
storms. In Spearfish, S.D., weather watchers once recorded a
49 F. temperature rise in just two minutes.
Bozeman, Montana experienced a 100 F temperature range, from +44 F to
–56 F, in 24 hours. A grapefruit‑sized
hailstone that fell in Kansas weighed 1.67 pounds, a world record, Tornadoes
strike with more frequency and fury on the southern plains than anywhere else
in the world. People who live on the prairie learn to make light
of weather extremes that would drive others to despair. In Where the Sky Began, John Madson
recounts the tale of a Nebraska farmer who died in retirement in San Diego. They
took his remains to a crematorium and baked them for an hour or so. When the furnace door was opened, the farmer
stepped out looking healthy and tanned.
He wiped some sweat off his face, gazed up at the hazy blue sky, and
said, "Sure good to be home again.
But by God, another couple of weeks of this and we ain't gonna get a
corn crop this year!" The violent winds that swirl across the grasslands
can uproot mature trees and flatten saplings, but the winds' desiccating effect
probably causes the most damage to shrubs and trees. Torrid spring and summer
winds can suck the soil dry even the relatively wet tall grass prairie region
experiences a net annual water deficit when you factor in evaporation, much of
it caused by scorching winds. Exposure to intense sunlight and long periods of
drought also dry prairie soils. Grasses are particularly efficient at tapping and retaining moisture. The root systems of Big Bluestem extend as far as 10 feet underground; a cubic meter of Big Bluestem sod may contain more than 20 linear miles of rootlets and root hairs. Leaves of many grasses curl up in hot weather, minimizing exposure to sun and wind. Waxy coating on grass leaves reduces water loss from evaporation. Grasses' pliant yet sturdy stems can withstand the fiercest gales; a wind seems to flow effortlessly through fields of grass, creating a mesmerizing interplay of waves and eddies. |
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Snakes
used to be an integral part of the prairie experience. As early Illinois
settlers traversed our native grasslands, they encountered many snake species
that are rarely, if ever, seen today – including the state threatened
massasaugas and the pesticide-sensitive smooth green snakes. Snakes are often
misunderstood and feared; however, they provide us with valuable ecosystem
services by controlling rodent and insect populations, and providing food for
hawks and owls! Moreover, in northern Illinois most snakes are harmless.
Northern Illinois is home to only two venomous species, the massasauga and the
timber rattlesnake, both of which are very rarely encountered and have severely
reduced population sizes. Snakes continue to fascinate scientists and casual wildlife
observers alike with their efficient predatory skills and graceful strength,
but habitat loss, pesticide use, and human malice has led, and may still be
leading, to the local extirpation of many valuable snake species.
To
determine why snake population sizes have declined in many areas of northern
Illinois, and to promote future snake conservation, I am studying the
relationships between snake habitat characteristics (e.g., local road density,
grassland quality, density of cover) and their population attributes (e.g.,
species diversity, weight and length ratios) in a number of northern Illinois
prairie remnants, including sites at Goose Lake Prairie. |
Nicolette
Cagle, doctoral student at Duke Univ., with a blue racer captured at GLP.
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This past summer, I completed my second season of fieldwork, and began my third year (of five) in Duke University’s doctoral program in ecology. Of the 76 individual snakes of seven different species that I captured this summer using funnel traps and sheet metal, I encountered 10 individuals of three snake species at Goose Lake Prairie, including the blue racer (Coluber constrictor foxii), the common garter snake (Thamnophis sirtalis), and two hit-by-car fox snakes (Elaphe vulpina). This summer’s severe drought likely decreased the number of snakes available for capture, and I’m hopeful that next year will yield even more individuals and a few additional species, such as the bull snake (Pituophis catenifer). |