Monitoring for the future

Post by Jen Berlinghof

It was a bone-chilling winter’s day at Captain Daniel Wright Woods in Mettawa—part of the Lake County Forest Preserves in northern Illinois—when a group of five gathered to monitor for the future. Our crew consisted of Restoration Ecologists Ken Klick and Dan Sandacz, Environmental Educator Eileen Davis, Environmental Communications Specialist Brett Peto and myself.

It’s all hands on deck for an ambitious new tree monitoring program with the lofty goal of sampling every woodland, upland forest and flatwoods habitat within the Forest Preserves every 10–15 years. Ken and Dan are spearheading this project.

In the field, the pair are like bookends. Ken has served 25 years at the agency, while Dan is fresh to the Forest Preserves, starting his tenure this past fall. The two have opted to take a collaborative approach, inviting volunteers from our Natural Resources and Education Departments to help with this significant undertaking.

A leisurely stream flows through Wright Woods in Mettawa. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
A leisurely stream flows through Wright Woods in Mettawa. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.

Trudging through mud and muck, snow and ice, Dan led us into the woods from the parking lot, carrying a yellow-and-orange piece of equipment called the Bad Elf that reminded me of Gandalf’s staff from The Lord of the Rings. The Bad Elf is used to calibrate GPS coordinates. We carried other gear to help take stock of trees and shrubs, too: measuring tapes, metal posts, iPads, styluses.

Our boots gently kicked up spores from giant puffball (Calvatia gigantea) mushrooms as we slipped past a babbling, half-thawed stream. When we arrived at the correct area, we quickly split into two teams and got to work on the day’s sample plots. Each circular plot has a 17.8-meter radius, randomly selected through mapping software. We used the Bad Elf to locate the center of each plot and pounded a metal post into the ground to mark it.

Then we followed two monitoring protocols: tree canopy monitoring and shrub monitoring. For the former, we identified and measured every tree that had a diameter at breast height (DBH) larger than 10 cm within the 17.8-meter radius. We also took notes on each tree’s health. For shrub monitoring, we counted the number and size of species and stems found within a smaller, 5-meter radius. In practice, both protocols involved Ken and Dan carrying a meter tape and walking in a slow circle, measuring plants and calling out stats, which Eileen and I recorded data on iPads into our in-house database.

The author installs a metal post to mark the center of a sample plot. Restoration Ecologist Dan Sandacz holds a Bad Elf to calibrate GPS coordinates. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
The author installs a metal post to mark the center of a sample plot. Restoration Ecologist Dan Sandacz holds a Bad Elf to calibrate GPS coordinates. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
Dan measures a 17.8-meter radius for a sample plot. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
Dan measures a 17.8-meter radius for a sample plot. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
The author records tree and shrub data, and compass coordinates, on an iPad. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
The author records tree and shrub data, and compass coordinates, on an iPad. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.

While we recorded data, other bits of knowledge passed back and forth among the group. We discovered together that a tree snag—a standing dead or dying tree that provides wildlife habitat—was a shagbark hickory (Carya ovata) formerly home to pileated woodpeckers (Dryocopus pileatus). We pondered the curly tufts of dried poverty oat grass (Danthonia spicata) that, according to Ken, seems to only grow at the bases of certain trees. We worked through the challenges of identifying tree species without their leaves, focusing on the bark, twigs and buds, and using our knowledge of the habitat. This sharing of wisdom across departments strengthens the Forest Preserves as a whole.

Trees are the old souls of the forest. They don’t respond as quickly to natural resource management practices as animals or herbaceous plants do. This monitoring effort is designed to create a baseline, long-term dataset of the tree canopies in woodland habitats throughout Lake County. With the data collected, we’ll be able to evaluate how our management efforts—such as prescribed burns and removal of European buckthorn (Rhamnus cathartica)—affect woodlands over long periods of time.

We’ll also use this information to describe the tree canopies at different preserves, focusing on forest health, age and canopy structure. The results can help us estimate important metrics of woodland quality and ecosystem services, such as carbon sequestration.

Restoration Ecologist Ken Klick measures a tree's diameter at breast height, or DBH. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
Restoration Ecologist Ken Klick measures a tree’s diameter at breast height, or DBH. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
Environmental Educator Eileen Davis records data. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
Environmental Educator Eileen Davis records data. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
Ken heads to the next sample plot area. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
Ken heads to the next sample plot area. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.

As we finished up our nine plots for the day, we looked up from our focused view to contemplate the expansive sight of towering oaks (Quercus spp.) and hickories (Carya spp.). We walked under leafy squirrel dreys tucked high in the craggy branches. We passed a papery praying mantis (Mantidae family) egg case attached to a vermilion stem of red osier dogwood (Cornus sericea). And we followed the Bad Elf out of the woods, our arms a little less heavy with equipment, but our database loaded with new information.

It’s satisfying to know these efforts are laying the groundwork toward a goal of the Forest Preserves: understanding Lake County’s tree populations today so we can better protect them for tomorrow. Learn more about our natural resource management strategies.

Enjoy the serenity of this Meditative Minute video. Video © Lake County Forest Preserves.

Planting for pollinators

Guest post by Eileen Davis

It’s a sunny July afternoon at a Lake County Forest Preserve in northern Illinois. The humidity is low and the breeze is just right. I’m poised over a patch of wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa), furiously clicking away with my camera, hoping to get at least one image that will be clear enough for me to identify the native bumble bee feeding on the flower. If there’s a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon, I haven’t found it.

A two-spotted bumble bee (Bombus bimaculatus) feeds on wild bergamot. Photo © Eileen Davis.
A two-spotted bumble bee (Bombus bimaculatus) feeds on wild bergamot. Photo © Eileen Davis.
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Bringing back the buzz

Post by Jen Berlinghof

All summer long, swaths of wild bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) quake in the presence of thousands of native bumble bee wings beating away. These pollination dynamos use a technique called buzz pollination, vibrating their bodies to trigger nearby flowers to release pollen. At the Lake County Forest Preserves in northern Illinois, a similar buzz of excitement arrived in summer 2020 when staff spotted the federally endangered rusty patched bumble bee (Bombus affinis) at Greenbelt in North Chicago.

Fast forward to summer 2021. The hum continues to reverberate after multiple sightings of this keystone species were documented across the county from Flint Creek to Wadsworth Savanna in Wadsworth. While summer’s the height of hive activity, the shoulder seasons—usually defined as May, June, September and October—might be key to the success of the rusty patched bumble bee. This is partly due to the timing, or phenology, of the species’ lifecycle. It’s one of the first bees to emerge in spring and the last to enter hibernation in fall.

A worker, or male, rusty patched bumble bee (Bombus affinis) sits atop mountain mint. Photo © Dan Mullen.
A rusty patched bumble bee (Bombus affinis) sits atop mountain mint. Photo © Dan Mullen.
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A native garden to call your own

Guest post by Eileen Davis

What is your earliest gardening memory? Was it planting a seed in a paper cup at school, and watching it sprout and grow on the classroom windowsill? Perhaps you gathered dandelion flowers and presented your mom with a beautiful, yellow bouquet. Or did you rake up a giant pile of leaves to jump in on a crisp fall day? You might even have visited the native garden at Independence Grove in Libertyville, part of the Lake County Forest Preserves in northern Illinois.

My earliest gardening memory is helping my aunt and uncle in their garden. I was only about four or five years old, but I clearly remember the prickly feeling of the cucumber vines scratching my forearm as I helped pull weeds. No matter the memory, we are all doing the same thing—tending to our little piece of the Earth. It’s something humans have done for thousands and thousands of years. We are and always have been dependent on our environment for survival.

The author's daughters playing in a backyard leaf pile. Photo © Eileen Davis.
The author’s daughters playing in a backyard leaf pile. Photo © Eileen Davis.
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Milkweed. It’s not just for the monarchs.

Post by Jen Berlinghof

Being home more these past months has allowed my family copious time to observe the common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) in our garden go through its life cycle day by day. We’ve witnessed the transformation from wily little sprouts in early summer to blooming beasts, with pompoms of eraser-pink flowers wafting perfume across the yard—even threatening to take over the footpath—by Fourth of July. Now in the sweet days of September, our milkweed is laden with swelling seed pods, ready to burst with floating seeds like so many little white parachutes scattered in the autumnal sky. The situation is similar in many of the Lake County Forest Preserves in northern Illinois.

The beautiful flowerhead of common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca). Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
The beautiful flowerhead of common milkweed (Asclepias syriaca). Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
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Jack-in-the-pulpit? Or Jill?

Guest post by Pati Vitt

The weather has varied a lot so far this spring. Minor snow squalls and hailstorms trade off with wonderfully warm, sunny days, which seem to call out, encouraging us to find the signs of spring. When the season brings all the beauty and promise of plants and flowers emerging from the winter, I feel as if I am seeing friends old and new once again. It’s rather comforting to know that regardless of what occurs in human society, spring carries on in the Lake County Forest Preserves in northern Illinois.

Many of the floral signs of spring are ephemeral, created by healthy populations of plant species that only emerge above ground for six to eight weeks—between the start of the spring warm-up and the closure of the canopy, when the trees grow a full set of leaves. Their live-fast lifestyle is an evolved response to their shade intolerance. Ephemerals need to finish flowering and fruiting while they have enough sunlight, and also put something away for a rainy day. They stash the sugar they make during photosynthesis in underground storage organs such as corms, bulbs, and rhizomes. The starchy carbon will see them through the winter into the next spring.

Some residents of our woodlands and prairies announce the arrival of spring in understated ways that require careful attention. The early-flowering harbinger of spring (Erigenia bulbosa), and later bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis), are two examples. Other signs of spring are exuberant and showy, such as the carpets of marsh marigold (Caltha palustris) at Ryerson Conservation Area in Riverwoods. And of course, no spring display is quite so welcome as large-flowered trillium (Trillium grandiflorum) in full bloom. (This sight is only possible when the white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) population is stable; otherwise these beautiful plants are eaten out of existence.)

Not all spring wildflowers are showy, though, and not all of them are ephemeral. Arriving later in the season, Jack-in-the-pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) is one of the most common spring wildflowers in our woodlands. It’s usually entirely green in Lake County. Rarely, some maroon stripes may also be seen on the inflorescence, the reproductive portion of the plant.

Jack-in-the-pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) is a beautiful resident of deciduous woodlands. It typically grows one to two feet tall. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
Jack-in-the-pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) is a beautiful resident of deciduous woodlands. It typically grows one to two feet tall. Photo © Lake County Forest Preserves.
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