holyoutlaw

Duwamish Alive! is an annual event held to bring awareness about the Duwamish River and its importance to the history and ecology of Seattle. It also provides a focus of energy, as all the different groups involved in the restoration of the Duwamish River sponsor events. This year there were more than 15 events, including a shoreline restoration challenge, a kayak clean up, and numerous native planting work parties. Sponsors included Forterra, EarthCorps, Nature Consortium, the Rose Foundation, and many others.

Cecil Moses Memorial Park

King County Parks held a work party in Cecil Moses Park, located at the north end of the Green River Trail, which travels along the shore of the Duwamish River for 19 miles, to the North Green River Park in Kent. Cecil Moses is located at an important transition point in the river, where tidal influences mix the fresh water of the river and the salt water of Puget Sound. Young salmon pause here on their way to the ocean to acclimate themselves to salt water. Cecil Moses is also located close to North Winds Weir, an important historical location to members of the Duwamish tribe.

The day started cool and cloudy, with just three of us and an awful lot of plants.

Tools at the ready for eager volunteers.

We kept plugging away, though, and as the day continued, the sun came out more strongly and we were soon enough joined by two families. That made the rest of the day a breeze, and we got all the plants in the ground and most of them mulched.

Left to right: Cam (red shirt), Theresa, William (white shirt), and Leslie. Theresa is giving the planting demonstration.

Left to right: Kirstie, William, Ann, and Theresa.

Cam (red shirt) and Moss (behind Cam) watch as Leslie plants a shrub.

I like to see children at a restoration event. The families live near the park and regularly walk the trails together. They’ll be able to see the changes over time as the restoration progresses. That’s what it’s all about.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

Two of the other forest stewards and I were planning 2014 (the planning was fun and we’re looking forward to the activities), and the question of plant diversity came up. How much had we increased native plant diversity in North Beach Park? We had a couple plant lists handy, and were quickly able to come up with a pretty good idea. Other than the first order (made in 2011, before I barely knew anything), we’ve concentrated on ordering plants we knew to be under- or unrepresented in the park. Once I got home, I looked through previous lists and came up with a pretty definite figure.

But first, why does increased native plant diversity matter? It’s such a mantra for forest stewards the question deserves to be asked.

• It provides more food sources for the creatures that eat plants. That’s, basically, everything else. If a creature doesn’t eat plants directly, it eats things that eat plants. More insects eating plants means (we hope) more birds eating insects. Invasive plants don’t provide food for insects that eat plants, which is why native diversity is important.
• It also increases the length of the bloom season. Particularly helpful are plants that bloom early in spring or late in summer.
• The greater variety of food sources and extended bloom time are examples of functional redundancy. There isn’t just one plant blooming, but several, which serve different pollinators. And there isn’t just one genus of wetland plant filtering the water, but three or four.
• It improves the soil structure with a diversity of roots. Plants taking water from the soil and releasing it through their leaves (evapotranspiration) is important to soil stabilization. And a variety of root structures will make the soil more lively, which will feedback and make the soil better for the root structures.
• The Pacific Northwest forests need plants at every canopy level — from ground covering forbs and ferns up to the tallest Douglas fir trees. Because (see first item) there are things that eat plants at every level.
• Many of the forest types we target in our restoration have similar plant communities and associations, with the main difference being proportions between the plants. Planting with as wide a palette as possible provides the opportunity for the plants to sort themselves out a bit.
• Plant diversity also builds in resilience to disturbances, whether fire, flood, famine, or climate change. And given that we work in a ravine, we could well be creating a refuge for many plants to escape the worst effects of climate change.

I’m sure there are more reasons, but this is what I can think of off the top of my head.

Oh, the statistics. We — the people engaged in restoration in North Beach Park, whether EarthCorps, a crew contracted by the Parks Department, or people working with Friends of North Beach Park — have planted 63 different species of plant in the park. Of these, 39, or 62%, were unrepresented in the park. Note that these aren’t necessarily rare plants, they’re just unrepresented in North Beach Park. And I’m not saying we’ve increased the diversity by that much. That would need a complete survey of all the plants in the park, native and invasive. But it’s still a fairly good number.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

James Barilla
Yale University Press, 2013

When most people think about creating backyard habitat, they probably imagine an almost Disneyfied picture of inter-species harmony and cooperation. The reality is much messier. On the one hand, the human desire to live with animals is strong; that’s why we have pets. On the other, we would like the boundaries to be distinct.

This messiness is what Barilla explores. So you want to create a backyard that’s welcoming to squirrels. What about when they’re eating your peaches? What about when rats and opossums come into this big hollow tree that’s warm and full of great nooks and crannies? You want animals close, but not too close.

Barilla looks at many different cities and how they’re coping with the encroachment of supposedly wild animals. Vervet monkeys in Dania, FL; rhesus macaques in New Delhi, India; black bears in Northampton, MA; and tamarins in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Dealing with the animals is hindered by many factors. The tamarins of Rio are an invasive pest where they are — but endangered in their home range. It would seem simple to just capture them in Rio and transport them to their home range. But they’re separated by thousands of miles. Have the urban tamarins picked up new parasites or diseases that will affect the wilderness tamarins? How has their genotype altered in response to city living over the generations? Can they still survive in the wilderness? One of the reasons they do so well is the prevalence of jackfruit trees, which are themselves an invasive species.

Another reason they do so well is because people feed them. Barilla feeds a vervet monkey in Florida, and describes the experience in great detail. It’s much different than putting out a feeder for birds, or kibble for a dog. He feels a transcendent connection to the wild, to the “us and not us” of a primate.

Barilla’s depiction of his personal experiences in his research is one of the strengths of the book. I wish he’d taken a little more time to talk about the process of building a backyard habitat, but there are plenty of books on that subject. This book, as I said, explores the messier territory. The animals we invite into our backyards have their own agency, their own desires, which do not always neatly align with ours.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

The other day, doing another stream survey, I got a sense of what an ivy forest might look like.

We’ve all seen ivy on the ground, where it “should” be — the roots are shallow, the vines thin. You can easily pull up great stretches of English Ivy. This can lead to what I call “ivy madness”, as you get wrapped up in pulling a root and it leads you 10 feet or more away from where you started.

In an unmanaged park, ivy can establish monocultures. This photo was taken in 2011, before any work had been done in North Beach Park. The ivy has covered the ground and suppressed all native plants. It was climbing the trees and would have reached the crowns soon enough.

That’s what ivy does. It’s quite happy scampering along on the ground, growing (I’ve heard) up to 7 feet per year. It can also survive in such low-light conditions it can’t be shaded out. If it hits an obstacle, such as a tree, it grows up towards the light.

Once the ivy reaches the crown, it gets enough sunlight to flower and fruit — well out of reach of human intervention. Pollinators go for the nectar and birds eat the seeds. If beetles or pollinator larvae at the leaves, we might not have as much of a problem with it.

As the ivy climbs the tree, the roots thicken and develop ugly, centipede-looking root hairs that grip the tree. The ivy doesn’t parasitize the tree directly, but the weight of the mass of ivy slows tree growth, and the leaves create a great sail that can bring a tree down in winds it might otherwise have survived.

Here is what some ivy roots look like cut through. They are far from the thickest we’ve seen in North Beach Park. I remember when we cut through these roots they snapped with quite a loud crack.

This is one of the thickest ivy roots from North Beach Park. For scale, that’s lying on a 50 gallon lawn’n'leaf garbage bag.

But the other day I saw a new form that made me think this is what an ivy forest would look like.

I was at the base of a slope that enclosed the Headwaters Bowl (a large wetland where most of the water enters the park). There are few trees growing in the bowl itself as it’s too wet. On the slope there are old trees, but the few saplings aren’t enough for succession. But at the base of the slope, where I was, there were a number of logs that had fallen into the bowl. They were covered with thick ivy vines, still rooted into the ground. The ivy was growing out into the sun and receiving direct sunlight for most of the day; there was very little shade.

Note how smooth the vines are — no need for the centipede hairs, I guess.

And look how different the leaves are — thick, leathery, almost completely filled in. This is what it looks like at the crown of trees.

Just as on the ground, it still twines all around and about. However, these vines are thumb-thick and thicker. They form a more solid thicket than blackberry (you can cut through blackberry with a machete, but this would take a saw). Almost as dense as holly, but less prickly.

I think the ground is too wet for the ivy to root, and most of the rooting happens on the slope. This might make it relatively easy to make a serious dent in this ivy, by cutting it from the logs as if we were making a horizontal survival ring.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

This was done for ESRM 473, “Restoration of North American Biomes,” Winter 2013, Kern Ewing, professor. I was in Group 5.

Looking west across restoration area to Shoveler’s Pond.

For well over a decade, the students taking ESRM 473 every winter have done restoration projects in the Union Bay Natural Area. They’ve mostly been creating Garry oak savannah, a habitat that was once common before European settlement, but has been almost wiped out by agriculture, fire suppression, and degradation of the land.

Garry Oak savannahs were maintained by Native Americans and used as open grazing lands for herbivores and gardening areas for families. After the glacial retreat, the weather was warm and dry, and the prairie developed and was used by the first peoples. When the climate cooled and got wetter, Native Americans had to maintain the open prairies to prevent encroachment with Douglas-fir and other conifers. The plants have adapted to the fire regime, and need frequent cool fires for germination and fertilization of the soil.

The Union Bay Natural Area was once underwater: before western Washington’s hydrology was so drastically revised by Hiram M. Chittenden, Lake Washington was about 19 feet deeper. After the Montlake Cut opened, and Lakes Washington and Union reached a common level, the area that’s now UBNA was exposed. It was used as a landfill for many decades, then capped and filled in the 1970s (I think). More recently, restoration efforts of various types have been done there, to do a better job of creating habitat and providing ecological services. So, in one sense, this wasn’t a “restoration” project at all, because there was never a Garry Oak savannah in this particular location. But in many other senses, it is. The savannah will provide much more food and habitat for the waterfowl and other birds that live in UBNA, and will just plain be more beautiful than the lawn it’s replacing.

Why We Do It.

Each group got $150 to order plants and seeds. We selected food plants as much as possible, including things like nodding onion, camass, broad-petaled strawberry, and others. We also ordered all seeds, partly by accident. Each group also got a number of starts of idaho fescue and blue wild rye to supplement our selection. Finally, a large cache of seeds was discovered in the lab and was divided among the groups. This included more fescue and wild rye and some tufted hairgrass.

The blue wild rye (Elymus glaucus) is the taller, broader-leaved grass along the edge of the cart; idaho fescue is the smaller, more delicate grass next to the rakes.

Various delays put the work parties very late into the quarter, and late in the planting season. It took a while for the area to be plowed, and then when it was plowed, they uncovered some artifacts that lead the powers that be to decide to cap the plowed area with two feet of soil. Another delay, but helpful. Sunday, March 10, was the day that several groups were going to be working, throughout the day.

This is what we found. The groups on either side of our plot had already done their work.

The soil felt pretty low quality — very gravelly, a lot of silt and clay. It was also very difficult to work with. But still, we put the plants into the soil.

Three Garry Oak bareroots, surrounded by Idaho fescue.

The work took a very short time for us, partly because we only had seeds. What we did for the most part was jab a shovel into the ground repeatedly, to break up the soil and create a large number of mini-trenches. Then we broadcast the seeds over the prepared area, and raked them over and stepped on them to get them into the ground. The last step was planting the starts of wild rye between the different plants. As we were finishing, a light rain was just beginning, perfect! And it stayed light enough not to bother the groups that were just getting started. It should be rainy for the next several days as well. (wotta surprise.)

Group Five, the after picture. Left to right, me, Andy, Keenan, Tarranum, and Christine (photo by Andrew F., the TA).

All in all, it was a fun project, and I think we all worked well together.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

The work party at North Beach Park on the 24th was directed to planting. We had 148 plants to get into the ground, in three different locations, and in a number of microenvironments, from perennial wetland (wet all the time) to upland slopes.

25 Slough Sedge plugs ready to go into the wetlands.

Each year, Green Seattle Partnership gives every park under its auspices 200 plants. This year, we concentrated the order on wetland plants and upland shrubs. There are a lot of seeps in the park, and although the water moves slowly most of the year, it doesn’t stop. This year, which went from record drought to record rainfall, change is noticeable on a weekly basis. Over the years, the seeps have carried away quite a bit of the park.

We had 12 participants at the work party, which turned out to be just enough for the work we had. I had been worried that we wouldn’t get all the plants in the ground, but in fact, we were able to wrap up and have all the tools wiped down and back in the Jobox by noon. Getting the work done was vastly aided by a couple prep sessions with Drexie, tagging the plants at the Carkeek nursery, and then transporting them to the park and putting them in place to begin work.

We also had a few brand-new tools, courtesy of a microgrant from Groundswell NW. Here are some of them, artfully displayed on a pile of mulch:

A couple of the co-stewards mentioned that they felt like this was the first “real” planting. We know the park better than last year, we knew where diversity was needed, and we knew how to plant them. The plants are healthy and they’re going in at the perfect time of year for native plants. Their roots will establish over the winter, and when they leaf out in the spring, they’ll be much better prepared to survive the dry spell. (Many of the plants we planted last year survived the drought, but it’s still unclear whether they had enough energy to make good buds for next spring. We’ll find out.)

It was a great experience of everyone working together, the weather cooperating, plans changing in good ways, and nobody getting hurt (always a plus!)

Here are a few of us late in the work party, getting mulch into a bucket. You can see I’m not shy about getting dirty. Left to right, foreground: Clint, Luke, Alan, Morrie, Julie. Left to right, background: Selena, Drexie, Sam, Genie. Photo by Tad Anderson.

Here’s a group shot:

Left to right: Selena, Drexie, Luke, Julie, Morrie, Sam, Tad, Clint, Alan, Genie. Not pictured: Loren and David. All the pink flagging tape in the lower left corner is attached to just-planted plants. Photo by Keelan Currin.

This is the same group of folks, but the wider angle gives a good sense of the park:

Photo by Keelan Currin.

Thank you to everyone who participated and helped! It was great fun and very successful.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

Julie and I took a late afternoon trip to North Beach and Carkeek Parks Monday to look for salmon. Well, we stopped at North Beach Park on the way, so I could see how things are going.

The alders were still blocking the trail. But we did see some gorgeous fall color.

Big leaf maple leaves cover the path in North Beach Park.

In fact, I thought the park was particularly beautiful. The cloud cover wasn’t too thick, and the colors were very warm. Where the path wasn’t covered in maple leaves, it was covered in alder leaves.

The park was also very wet. It’s gone from the driest I’ve ever seen it (in September) where just walking along a trail would cause it to crumble; to the wettest I’ve ever seen it, where you’re in constant danger of slipping, and leaves might cover mud a couple inches thick.

Pileated woodpecker on a snag in North Beach Park

We also saw a pileated woodpecker, working its way up a snag. (It’s kind of small, click on the image for a slightly bigger version.) I saw a pileated woodpecker in 2010, I think, or maybe 2009. It was good to see one again.

It worked its way up the snag, its feet spread very wide to hold onto the snag. It pecked here and there, but didn’t have to knock the wood for quite a while. There were two flickers above it, working the same snag, but as it approached, they each flew away without saying anything.

After that, it was back up the trail and over to Piper’s Creek.

We started at the beach, as always. So far, there are only a couple dozen wigeons there regularly. But we also saw a cormorant off in the waters. (Later in the winter, there will be many more types of birds.) Besides the usual crows’n'gulls, I mean, who were enjoying the salmon buffet (that is, the fish that didn’t make it). Looking through the binoculars I saw about five different gulls eating at different salmon. Here is a picture of one that was picked clean.

Then it was back and over the bridge and up to Piper’s Creek. There were lots of salmon in the creek this time, resting in the pools, splashing upstream or over the rocks and logs.

Salmon splashing in Piper’s Creek, Carkeek Park. The curved line in the upper right quadrant is the back of the salmon.

I think we were up and down the various viewpoints of the creek for about an hour, talking to people and listening to their own observations. There are always a few families with young kids.

I’m sure we’ll go again. It’s always interesting to see them swimming around, and it’s exciting when one tries to make it over a little waterfall. No bears, and none of the giant waterfalls of rivers in Alaska. But raccoons, who will spread the fish carcasses around the woods.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

Every park that is an official Green Seattle Partnership site gets to order 200 plants a year. This works out really well for 10 acre North Beach Park, with only about half an acre under active restoration (although we plant throughout the park). 200+ acre Carkeek, not as well. (But Carkeek also has other programs for getting plants and trees.)

Here are the plants we ordered for North Beach Park:

Wetland Plants and Shrubs

The wetland plants are, in no particular order, Black Hawthorn (Crataegus douglasii), Oregon Ash (Fraxinus latifolia), Pacific crabapple (Malus fusca), Small-fruited bullrush (Scirpus microscarpus), and hardhack (Spirea douglasii). These will go into the headwaters bowl, the wetland area we cleared of blackberry during the drought. The bullrush will go in the wettest part of the wetland, the shrubs and trees along the perimeter.

Upland Plants and Shrubs

Including: Vine Maple (Acer circinatum), Hazelnut (Corylus cornuta), Ocean Spray (Holodiscus discolor), Tall Oregon-grape (Mahonia aquifolium), Mock Orange (Philadelphia lewisii), Thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorous) and Evergreen Huckleberry (Vaccinium ovatum).

The main planting party will be on Saturday, November 24. Work off those Thanksgiving calories and have fun getting dirty. For more information, and to volunteer, please click here.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.

That sounds pretty dry, but the evidence is dramatic. Per Square Mile examines the question of whether urban canopy can predict wealth by looking at wealthy and poor neighborhoods in cities around the world.

Here is Seattle’s version:
South Park

Aerial view of South Park neighborhood in Seattle. Via Google Maps.

The Highlands

Aerial view of The Highlands, one of Seattle’s wealthiest neighborhoods. Via Google Maps.

Here’s more information about the correlation of wealth and urban canopy cover.

Mirrored from Nature Intrudes. Please comment over there.