Niobrara River Ponderosa Forests Burned

This is a brief post on the large fire (>50,000 acres) along the Niobrara River in Nebraska. See Chris Helzer’s excellent Prairie Ecologist blog for amazing photos on the ground in the aftermath of the fires at TNC’s Niobrara Valley Preserve. The steep slopes and canyons along the Niobrara Valley represent the easternmost extent of the range of Ponderosa Pine, and a unique system where pines meet the transition between mixed and even tallgrass prairies, and while the fire did not burn through nearly all of the Niobrara Ponderosas, a large area is going to be fundamentally different for a long time. Below is a MODIS image from the area taken today (true color). The more southeasterly (bottom right) brown scar represents the footprint of the fire, and you can still see some smoke. The dark green that runs east-west along the river represents the forests. Dark green spots are agricultural fields with center-pivots with the exception of some wet areas between sand hills in the bottom center.

One can clearly see the trace of the Niobrara River in Nebraska and the darkened footprint of a fire along the Niobrara and another large fire to the northwest in this MODIS image from July 24. Smoke still rises from both.

This is a comment motivated by comments on the Prairie Ecologist blog (www.prairieecologist.com). Some see fires like this as good, natural, and promoting diversity, and I think that analysis oversimplifies the issue:

I’m inclined to think that a fire eliminating a solid stand of trees that has reduced understory diversity might lead to a diversity increase, but I am also inclined to think that a savanna state rather than a complete kill at reasonably large scales of the types of trees that are natural to the area (although widely interspersed) reduces opportunities over the coming decades to maximize diversity, because savannas contain more environmental gradients than open grasslands. The resident species pool there is likely much different, but where large swaths of Ponderosa have been eliminated in New Mexico (and not only in the last two years, but even on fire scars from late from 10-30 years ago) many areas are thickets of Robinia and Gambel oak with few or no regenerating pines and little herbaceous layer. Admittedly I am not as familiar with that area (N. Nebraska), but I am familiar with Ponderosa forests in the west, where large scale crowning is leading to fundamental and persistent changes, and the rate at which new areas are being lost is faster than historic fire regimes can be restored and trees and the understory plant communities and associated fauna can recover.

I am not saying this because I like to look at forest, I am a prairie guy, and I work in a region where woody encroachment has demonstrably reduced diversity. That said, open Ponderosa woodlands and savannas (or areas that historically were) are something increasingly precious, and in a period of profound and rapid global change, populations near the edges of ranges are particularly vulnerable and also valuable, because of their potential to harbor unique genetic resources for broader conservation.

I view overly dense stands of Ponderosa the same way I would view an overly dense stand of trees in with a few big oaks on a former savanna in Eastern Iowa…I would love to see them thinned, but I would mourn large scale losses of all or most of the trees, because they are part of the definition of the landscape and essential to the livelihood of a subset of other species they occur with.

I also don’t view historical conditions as universally sustainable targets (emphasis on universally). The climate is measurably different now from the pre-settlement climate, and it is impossible to escape elevated N and CO2 fertilization and the effects of introduced species. In 80-90 years the best estimates tell us that the mean temperatures where I live, Northeast Kansas, will be approximately what they have been this year (warmer to date than any year in 120 year record). It is obvious that this will profoundly change things (this year asters and big bluestem bloomed in May). And this is precisely why diversity is of maximum importance, and not just diversity of species, but diversity of land cover types, and perhaps one could argue that this fire increased the diversity of land cover types, and that would warrant pondering. I think as people we are too attached to history, and that attachment is defeating to the preservation of the diversity, the species, that we love.

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Partial Eclipse over Konza

On June 4, 2012, I headed out to the Konza Prairie Biological Station to catch a partial eclipse of the setting sun. I took several dozen pictures, most of which came out as smudges of light, but a few turned out well. 

This image shows the eclipse just beginning with P. cobaea in the foreground.

The eclipse near its peak with Echinacea angustifolia and Koeleria macrantha in the foreground.

The eclipse near its peak behind a thin veil of cirrus.

The eclipse sets.

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Bringing work home or bringing home to work?

I have to be able to garden in order to maintain my sanity. It is a lot why we bought a house when I started my graduate program at Kansas State. I probably spend as much time gardening as I do on my graduate work (that’s just because I spend a ton of time gardening). It relieves stress, but as someone that studies plants formally, it is a great backdrop for thought. I see how plants respond to their environment and I see the same plants from day to day so that I know what they do through the seasons. I dig things up and learn how they’re structured below ground, and I know when their seeds germinate, what types of consumers visit them and when, and what they look like in winter. When I read that, based on isotopic work, Amorpha canescens gets most of its water near the surface, I knew, in part from gardening, that this was a paradox, because this is a plant with no fine roots anywhere near the surface (I have held it by its roots…and also seen its unbranched root dangling tens of feet from an eroded bank in the Loess Hills), and it is also a plant with a range that extends to where there is no surface water to be had when it does most of its growing and flowering in May and June (N. New Mexico). It was also one of the only green plants along the road cuts (in the midst of drought approaching parity with the dust bowl) in Central Kansas on my drive down to Taos yesterday, it is still flourishing in my home garden as other native vegetation goes dormant. Anyway, deep roots, green plants, but shallow water signature–these raise questions (an updated note, I actually went back to the paper, Nippert & Knapp 2007 in Oecologia, and, while most of the time they found a shallow water signature, during the driest period they sampled, A. canescens did show an isotopic signature for deep water, so it isn’t so surprising that it is still green–I had forgotten the exception to the general pattern). As another example–Liatris aspera has corms that contain rings that reflect their age (at least up to seven years), which I know, because I have plants of known age in my garden.

It amazes me how plant ecologists sometimes will characterize plants without detailed attention to their natural history–or even, in some cases, their morphology. Those things are so fundamental. Gardening is one of the ways I maintain familiarity with the plants I work with. It was the plants themselves, their amazing diversity of form, that first captured my imagination growing up, so when I look at a landscape, I start with the plants–what is at my feet, and I go from there.

The above is an image from June, 2010 showing the process of installing buffalo grass in the front yard (it is filled in now and still green despite drought), a strip of Liatris aspera running along the sidewalk up the house, Tradescantia bracteataOenothera macrocarpaPenstemon cobaea, Opuntia humifosa, and other young plants, including oddities for Kansas like Artemisia tridentata (which is thriving). These plants make for great butterfly, moth, bee, and hummingbird shows from the porch. I didn’t plant the row of ornamental dogwoods, and they take a lot of water. Below are some other pictures of of “native” plants growing in my garden.

Golden alexanders (Zizia aurea) is an under-appreciated by people but not Coleopterans. I like its early leaves, which emerge with a reddish tint in early spring.

This stunning Tradescantia is a garden hybrid between T. bracteata and T. tharpii.

Tradescantia tharpii


This plant, Silphium laciniatum, defines tallgrass prairie for me. It is one of the plants that amazed me the first time I stumbled onto a prairie preserve as an adolescent.

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