The Savanna Syndrome

July 6, 9 am: A palette of new sod

Could the appeal of a lush, trim lawn have roots in human evolution? The "Savanna Syndrome," a theory put forth by ecologist John Falk, proposes that our modern-day lawn shares important characteristics with the African savanna inhabited by our ancestors. A grassy plain indicates fruitful foraging. Low-to-the-ground foliage offers unobstructed sight lines, desirable to stay safe from predators. So perhaps there's something essentially adaptive in our attraction to the American lawn and our impulse to cut it.

Knee high by the Fourth of July

Once more, I'm expanding Open Phenology's micro-local focus, this time with a regionally relevant observation. While hiking at the Trout Valley Management Unit in Winona County, a stretch of path led me along a cornfield's perimeter. By my casual estimate, the plants measured up to the old adage, being "knee high by the Fourth of July." Modern agriculture typically surpasses this now-outdated benchmark, but this year's late spring was a setback for the crop's stature.

Turns out that 'knee high' is not a measurement of height. After a bit of research (the clickety-click Web surfing kind), I discover that it refers to a stage of the plant's maturity. Knee high corn is characterized by the sixth leaf's emergence from the stalk and the uppermost growth point's emergence above the soil surface. (Source: David Laatsch, as reported in the Watertown Daily Times) 

I'll have to look more carefully next time!

Constant Vigilance Post Script

Returning to my desk after Open Phenology, my colleague Scott Artley is thrilled to report a hawk seen soaring over the Sculpture Garden. And I recollect that yes, I heard what must have been a hawk's cry. But I was so preoccupied watching thirteen-lined ground squirrels and robins that I didn't look up. Come to think of it, I bet that hawk had the little ground animals in its sights, too!

Next Friday (July 8), Scott Artley will join Open Phenology. In hopes that the hawk might make another appearance, I'm studying the field marks and calls of a few likely species: Red-tailed Hawk, Sharp-shinned Hawk, and American Kestrel.

Post-post script: Here's something to ponder: Where are the grackles today? Usually (so far this summer, that is), Common Grackles are emphatically abundant in the garden, but today I didn't see them. Could it be the heat? Hmm...

Constant Vigilance!

I was chatting with my colleague Christina when I hit upon this truism: constant vigilance is the foundation of good phenological practice. Christina, catching the reference I unwittingly made, explained that Harry Potter's Professor Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody employs this same motto of "Constant Vigilance!" to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. But now back to my familiar domain, that of Muggles, Citizen Science, and natural phenomena in the Walker's vicinity. In my June 23 post, I anticipated seeing changes, these being among them:



What: Nasturtium flowering, leaf at ~5" diameter
Where: Arlene Grossman Memorial Arbor
Observers: Abbie (July 1)
Date/Time: May 27 (left) and about 10:20 am on July 1 (right)
Conditions: Sweltering heat (July 1)

What: American Robin juvenile. While these pictures document different individuals, the emphasis is on change over time (June 10 to July 1)—most noticeably, the development of functional flight feathers.The robin on the right, though about the same size as an adult, can be recognized as juvenile by the plumage. See the speckled breast?
Where: Sculpture Garden, by Scott Burton's Seat-Leg Table (July 1)
Observers: Abbie (July 1)
Date/Time: June 10 (left) and about 10:30 am on July 1 (right)
Conditions: Sweltering heat (July 1) (eighty-some degrees)

So, besides Alastor Moody and myself, who else might call for "constant vigilance?" A gardener, naturally. Not to battle the Dark Arts so much as to keep horticultural entropy at bay. On today's survey, I noticed a team of three gardeners tending to the arbor.

What: Iris leaves, tied in a knot and trimmed, to keep the garden looking orderly. And, in practical terms, this fastidious management allows light to reach the iris' neighbors
Where: Arlene Grossman Memorial Arbor
Observers: Abbie
Date/Time: July 1, about 10:15 am
Conditions: Sunny, hot (eighty-some degrees), and humid

What: Clematis—about 5' tall and flowering—trained with twine to climb the arbor
Where: Arlene Grossman Memorial Arbor 
Observers: Abbie
Date/Time: July 1, about 10:15 am
Conditions: Sunny, hot (eighty-some degrees), and humid







Constant vigilance is hyperbole, of course, but it's something to strive for. Anticipation has a positive influence on awareness.Take for example the Como Park Zoo and Conservatory's corpse flower. Again, props to my colleague Christina who watched the flower webcam with steadfast attention and even made a timely pilgrimage to witness the rare bloom. My vigilance, on the other hand, faltered, and I'm kicking myself for missing it.

If you'd like to prepare for July in hopes of not missing out, here's a tool to help you anticipate: Jim Gilbert's phenology report for July 2010 (PDF, 416 kb).

The Mulberry Gleaners

On my bike ride home today, I stopped to chat with a young couple harvesting mulberries.

Me: What do you do with them?
He: Use 'em anywhere you'd use blackberries.
 . . . pause . . .
He: They're not as sweet as blackberries.
She: But they're cheaper!

Going West in Search of Wild

Open Phenology collaborator Jim shares his field guide and expertise.

As Open Phenology attracts participants, the project's collaborative nature is taking shape. For example, this week's survey benefited from Jim's knowledge of botany and his intrepid impulse to explore the western fringe of the Walker's vicinity. So we left the manicured landscape of lawn and garden to investigate the wilder environs of wetland and forest.

Well, that begs the question: "What is wild?" What do terms like 'wilderness' or 'nature' denote, and what do we mean to exclude by using these words? It's an enigma to ponder because 'nature' seems to encompass everything, and yet most of us harbor the notion that nature has boundaries.

Once outside the urban yard's monoculture and the garden's cultivated display, does the land revert to its natural state? To the casual glance, perhaps it appears so. But upon examination, the answer is emphatically no. At every turn, introduced species were flourishing. And so we challenged ourselves to piece together, through observation and speculation, a semblance of this ecosystem's 'natural state.' And we wondered about the near future of this piece of land. Would our city or this neighborhood support and sustain the maintenance work necessary to keep invasives at bay?

What: Select observations described below
Where: Less than 1/2 mile west of FlatPak House, map above
Observers: Abbie, Jim, Martha, Renner
Date/Time: June 24, 10 to 11:30 am
Conditions: Sunny and warm

• Cottony wisps (likely cottonwood and aspen seeds) are aloft and litter the ground (Related resource: 'Plant profile' video about the cottonwood)
• Motherwort, flowering
• Cow parsnip, stalks are tall (some about 6') and seeds are forming (Related vocabulary: Umbel)
• Garlic mustard, second year plants have seed pods (Related resource: Why this plant is an ecological threat and what to do about it)
• Garlic mustard, first year plants are only basal rosettes, with no tall flowering stalk (Related hypothesis: We encountered a plot of exclusively first year plants and speculated that it might be the leading edge of the invasion)
• Elderberry plant, flowering
• Elderberry plant, berries ripening
• Deadly nightshade, flowering
• Jack-in-the-pulpit, berries ripening but still very green
• Mulberry, fruits ripening, but many are still pale
• Fleabane, flowering, a small bee (~3 or 4mm) observed
• Burdock, stalks are about 3' and still no flowers, aphids are observed on some individual plants
• Buckthorn, fruits ripening, but still green (Related resource: Why is buckthorn such a problem and what you can do about it)
• Spittle bug, shrouded in its spittle foam
• Wild ginger, flowers appear to be fading
• Wild sarsaparilla, leafstalks getting tall but no flowers observed

The Myth of Phenological Time Travel

In the 14 days since my last post, I traveled from the forty-fifth to the fiftieth parallel and back. Could a trip to Canada be phenological time travel? Would I find myself stepping back to an earlier point in spring?

Location A (Minneapolis Sculpture Garden)

Location B (western Ontario)

Well, that's a nice theory, but it turns out that contrasting Location A with Location B is a bit like the proverbial comparison of apples to oranges. Sure, up North the foliage was still tinged with spring's yellow-green, the lilacs were freshly blooming, and the water was colder. But the ecological landscapes were vastly different from one another. By traveling 5° north, I had left the deciduous forest and entered the boreal forest. The phenological players (plants, animals, etc) were so different that their life cycle events were not so much behind as they were simply incomparable. So, while I was on leave from Location A, here's a quick survey of phenological events at Location B:

Common Loons with chicks; Yellow Warblers tending a nest; Small-mouth bass nesting; dragonflies abundant; mayflies present; tiger swallowtails frequently sighted; mosquitoes scarce; no saturniids (Luna or Polyphemus moths) observed; Flowering plants included: pink lady slippers, star flowers, mountain ash, wild blueberries, wild iris, bunch berry, wild rose, columbine, and spotted coral root; Mosses' calyptra were still in place over developing capsules (click here for diagram, here for photo)

And as for Location A? A quick glance back to how I left things:

May 27: Nasturtium in the Garden's Arbor

June 10: American Robin

Phenology is about continuity. To succeed at this science, one must tend to a given locality with regularity. So, tomorrow as I resume my periodic surveys of the familiar Location A, I wonder what changes (incremental or monumental) may have occurred for this nasturtium plant? Or this robin?