Xerces Society – Heather Bernikoff

100th Post

It’s early Sunday morning. The sun is not up. I’ve been up doing chores, feeding animals, opening windows to allow the cool air, laden with scent, into the house. It is barely light, getting lighter. The birds start to sing. First one chirp, which leads to two then it all begins. I step into my boots, dogs at my heels and head out – pulled, then lightly pushed by the cool air now gently swirling in the house.

The ground is soaked from the dew. My boots collect the moisture along with leaves and purple pedals from the thousands of small flowers, close to the earth, lining my path. I check the milkweeds. They are stretched into the air bolstered by days of sun as they break through the invasive grasses that block the light. I examine the space to see if more are there. They are, and I breath, grateful for the resilience of these plants.

Heading down the hill with the symphony of birdsong the nectar of those thousands of flowers hits me. The grass nut flowers, tall with trumpeted light purple petals in a starburst formation cover the hillside. Among them are hints of dark purple, tall and narrow larkspur. Yellow Mariposa lilies are beginning to dot the hillside – more than I’ve ever seen here. The popcorn flower has nearly abated making room for more purples, filaree and small lupine – the large ones almost ready to burst.

As I get closer to the drainage, the temperature turns cooler, a function of the cold water that soaks the earth and continues to trickle. Walking along the drainage there is more larkspur, orange fiddle neck and now some new yellow seep monkey flower. The birdsong is penetrated by the flap of wings. A single bird flies overhead. Even though it is small, it is quiet enough to hear the displacement of the air with each flap. This is why the morning is magic.

I cross the swale pond and walk into the grove. The bullfrogs floating on the water surface dive beneath the murk, and those on the banks give a chirp as they jump into the water. The nectar scent is replaced by the sweet smell of wet bark and earthen musk. With every step, I stir up more smells of wet soil. The oaks are green, and full of leaves, which I hope portends of a mass of yummy acorn in the Fall. They look happy as I examine the check dams. The soil is still moist in the drainage fork. Good. The water is still running in the spring creek with some nice deep holes. Good. I note invasive thistle growing in my mini wetland and make a mental note to bring the weed eater down there later. With my mother-in-law, I planted milkweed seed. I am hoping to make this new sedimented area more diverse, not just a thicket of Italian thistle. Thistle is nectar rich, and the pollinators love it. There thousands of stalks allover the ranch. Taking out this little section will not impact nectar availability. I hope to get a glimpse of the quail I saw the other day, but I don’t. It is too early for some.

I exit the grove to check the open section of the spring creek. My boots are wet up to mid calf. Despite the work of the cows, the grass has grown taller with last week’s rain. The first section of creek is still running, filled with grass and small, open stands of water. More seep monkey flowers emerge. About halfway down the open section of creek the water stops. I hear the last drips into a small pool just downstream of my old, small, rock check dam. The flow is underground now. It leaves a creek bed of moist soil the rest of the way to my property line.

As I veer back to the trail, turning west now on the open grassland, the sun is up over the east mountains and hits my back. The warmth is a familiar hand across my back comforting me as I walk. I notice the humidity now, so thick. The full force of nectar is back, clinging to the water molecules in the air, which fill my lungs. I think of all those molecules that comprise this Spring cocktail of life and know that my body will know what to do with all the constituent elements as my lungs expand and contract. I breath even deeper now, filling myself with this ancient food.

There are still no raptors, ravens or vultures in the sky. This time is for the songbirds to flit and sing with less concern of being a meal or their eggs being a raven’s meal. I link up with the cattle road and make a turn north, fully surrounded by the large expanse of grassland. I hear the unmistakable song of the meadowlark, deeee, de de de deee, then as the sky brightens, coyotes begin to sing. As I get closer to the driveway, there is the distant rumble of cars on the road, which is a quarter mile away. The sun has woken humans up too. I continue the last leg of my walk, Millie by my side and Beatrix taking the short-cut through the grassy hill. I feel grounded and filled. This walk is a ceremony of connection, an acknowledgement that we are all together, living for one another.

Monarchs Are Back with Babies!

There is no more gratifying symbol of the success of the work here than the habitat being used. This is especially true when monarch caterpillars are present. On Monday, 4/22, I walked the steep hillsides to check on the California Milkweed plots. Fortunately, I had friend and biologist extraordinaire Deedee Soto at the ranch visiting. It was warm that day, even at the end of the day, so we sweated as we made our way up. The first plot, all the plants looked healthy, but there was no evidence of monarch use. We made our way down hill, crossed the drainage, still spongy with water, and then started our ascent. Again, this is a steep slope. Deedee and I walked slowly, taking breaks. Mille and Beatrix were with us, but about halfway up, I turned to say something and did not see Beatrix. Where was she? Evidently, she gave up, went back down to the spongy drainage and laid in the coolness of the grass and soil spectating our ascent. I rolled my eyes, slightly jealous, and the rest of us continued upward.

At the plot, our efforts were rewarded. Six of the 13 plants had caterpillars. I screamed with joy to Deedee. It just came out. Fortunately, she understands and doesn’t think me strange to be so excited about this tiny yellow, black and white creature. Because of Deedee’s high skill, and youthful eyes, we counted 28 caterpillars of varying ages, from the first instar to the third. Caterpillars go through five caterpillar stages, with #5 being the largest, before they transform to chrysalises. Twenty-eight is a great start! There could be more though. Caterpillars are very crafty, having the super power to hide in plain site. Two other plants had evidence of monarch use, but we could not find any caterpillars. I whoo hooed from the hilltop. The monarch mamas had found this patch of California Milkweed a hospitable home once again, trusting this place with their future.

All Oaks Planted

If you are a regular reader of this blog, you may remember that my neighbors, Ric and Kim, are extremely generous, allowing me to use their electric Polaris for my habitat restoration work. Those vehicles are extremely expensive, and we are so grateful for this kindness. It makes life much easier. I was reminded of this last week when Ric had his vehicle back with him for some work, and I was still engaged in blue oak planting. Undeterred, I regressed to using my cart and hand dragging around my tools and plants to continue planting. I got three more blue oaks planted, but goodness, I was sweating.

The good news is that two of the earlier oaks are thriving, and the seedlings I’ve been protecting in the Spring Creek area for 15 years are finally appreciably growing.

Wildflowers and Wildlife

Beautiful small frog on willow root thatch

Fire Keeping

Nellie, the previous Pollinator Program Coordinator for the Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation, attended a traditional cultural gathering the other weekend and educated participants on pollinator plants. She gave the group a packet of milkweed seeds with tobacco and sage as part of the mix. Nellie said that when we planted the seeds we would be making an offering at the same time. I nearly cried I was so proud. I agree. Planting is a sacred act; it is bringing us closer to fulfilling our responsibilities as stewards of where we live and connecting us to place in a way that is intimate. She is keeping the fire of knowledge of traditional practices, values and connection and sharing those with others who are continuing on their road back to a reciprocal relationship with all our relations.

Five Years and Three Months

It has been five years and three months since I read the New York Times article about the plummeted numbers of monarch butterflies. It made me sad and angry that monarchs could very well be lost in my lifetime. I did not want to imagine a west without this beautiful and important native animal. I still remember that day in January when I read that article. I thought, “Ok, I am not willing to let that happen without a fight. What can I do about this?” So, I got to work learning as much as I could about monarchs, their migration, lifecycle, what they needed to survive. I learned who the key organizations were leading the charge and that there, gratefully, was a significant focus on this issue. I knew I had seen monarchs before, but it made me consider how long it had been since I’d seen any at the ranch, or even in town. I went back through photos. It had not been for ten years – not since before the 5-year drought.

The first people I reached out to were the Southern Sierra Miwuk tribal elders. I asked them about the monarchs and the western slope of Mariposa County and what they knew of the populations, plants and timing. I then reached out to some older ranchers to gauge how often they had seen monarchs and what they remembered from their grandparent’s stories. It was clear. The elders shared about times of abundance, with fields of butterflies, including monarchs, all over the milkweeds that particularly grew in the riparian and marshy areas. There were more flowers then and more milkweed to support hungry caterpillars and butterflies. The ranchers told me of less abundance – of having seen them as children, but not as many now. With this information, I knew this area had supported flocks of butterflies, and that it could possibly be that way again – at least Taawe Bwia, my ranch, could be an oasis.

To get plants, I reached out to Mariposa Native Plants (Ron Allen and Bev Andalora). I knew them in the community, and Ron had already been gaining a reputation as a “milkweed whisperer”. From the information I gained online, to Ron and Bev’s knowledge, we created milkweed plots. I started with two diversified plots, and both were ravaged by gophers. I started over, placing the plants in mesh baskets instead of chicken wire cages. That worked, but it was expensive. While I was committed to the project, I could never have scaled it as big as I have without the Mariposa County Resource Conservation District (Melinda Barrett). She was a wealth of knowledge, and I changed the composition and structure of the milkweed plots to “pollinator islands” based on her guidance. She was able to help because there was significant funding from the Wildlife Conservation Board, and the California Association of Resource Conservation Districts, as the intermediary administrator.

I was fortunate to have the thought partnership of Xerces Society partner biologist Deedee Soto, who shares my passion and commitment to conservation work. Truly, without her expertise, I would not have as much success. She is a genius with plants – propagation and ID. At this time, Xerces also began their very useful habitat kits (Thank you to Jessa Kay-Cruz and Angela Laws!). Not only did it provide all the plants needed for a successful pollinator island, it taught people about the plants, bloom timing and diversification. I still have the very first plant list with bloom times. It was such a great resource, and what a great idea.

I received tremendous support from the National Resource Conservation Service (NRCS) John Grimes, Jesse Baum, Prospero, and so many others in the NRCS ecosystem. Farm Advisor Fadzayi Mishari provided input on conservation issues early on in my land stewardship and organized important educational opportunities for the ag community where I was able to learn a great deal.

Point Blue Conservation partner biologist Elena Kromer wrote my first conservation plan. While it took a very long time to get done, she listened carefully to what my concerns were and designed a plan that addressed many of them. This process connected me further into Point Blue, where I was able to join their carbon sequestration and wildlife resources study project and access their Roots grant program (Cati Mong). Also of essential help were the classes and resources from Monarch Joint Venture. They offered the first online class I took that brought me from knowing almost “0” to knowing much more. I was able to take that knowledge and advance it through the Pollinator Partnership Pollinator Stewardship Certification program, where I earned my certification in Summer 2023. Most recently, I was also able to qualify for the California Department of Fish and Wildlife Partners Program with many thanks to biologist Rosie Gonzalez and her colleagues for smoothly navigating me through the process.

Last, but not least, I want to acknowledge my dear family, friends and readers of this blog. My dad, Alan, and dear friend Daniel donated funds early on that helped me purchase more plants and supplies. My mother-in-law Sheila sends me fun butterfly-themed gifts. My brother Vance, and sister Sarah, who actually read this blog early on, encouraged me. My neighbors Ric and Kim who let me borrow their Polaris, and early on Ric helped considerably with fencing labor. My nephew Ashtin and niece Desiree have helped with the branch fence early on. My other mother-in-law, Liz, has helped me work the ranch each visit, planting seeds, digging channels and holes. Dear friends Melanie, Molly and Jen have worked side by side with me to build rock and log check dams. Friends in the community and on social media, readers of this blog who have sent words of encouragement, recommendations, shared knowledge, ignored my typos, and encouraged my writing, you all kept me going especially when I had set-backs. Finally, my beloved spouse, David, who without him nothing is possible. From his emotional support to physical labor, and financial partnership, he has been there for me and this dream of changing the course of monarch survival, to create a place where they can be assured of food and shelter along their epic journey. Chiokoe uttesiavu. Si se enchinakiavu. Thank you. I appreciate you all.

Free T-Shirts?

To commemorate my 100th post, I am having a PolliNative t-shirt giveaway. If you like what we are doing here and want to represent via a beautiful organic cotton shirt with a heartfelt message, here is how:

Make a comment on this blog with no more than three sentences sharing about what you are doing to help our pollinators thrive.
Everyone who submits a comment will be entered into a random drawing for a tee-shirt. They are expensive, so I can only give a handful away.
Comments must be in no later than May 24th.

Thank you, reader, for everything you do to make our planet a healthy place for our children and for all our relations. Si enchi nakiavu (I appreciate you all).

Rain and Gophers Impact Milkweed. Wildflowers. Education. Bumbles. 99th Post -WHAT?!

Popcorn flower in foreground with a kaleidoscope of color beyond

The smell of nectar – that is how I started my previous blog post. It is 10 times as intense now. As I walk, I breath deep, then deeper. I want my all the tissues in my body to remember the scent and oily feel of this sensory gift the plants are giving. They get something too of course – pollination, genetic distribution, a chance to live again next year through their progeny. A life well-lived, whether insect, flower, or mammal, is a life of reciprocity.

Almost daily I make my way up the steep hills to check on the California Milkweed. It has been raining, and I want to see how everything is impacted. I am not entirely sure why, maybe curiosity, for there is very little I can do to help them. Their lives are in nature’s interconnected tendrils, a thatch of inter-dependencies, of which I am just one piece – with agency – but not as effective as I would like.

Breathing deep (and labored from the grade), I finally get to my destination, the large community of plants. There are four things that become immediately clear: 1. something has been here before me. The dogs are sniffing tightly around the milkweed. I get nervous. 2. The leaves look a bit rough from moisture, the delicate, velvet-like fuzz drooped just a little, a dusting of white mildew on the body. 3. Flowers are already beginning to bud. It seems early, but what I have learned over the years is that the CA Milkweeds are truth-tellers, future-readers. I imagine them with their crystal balls beckoning me to sit nearby and listen to a reading of the future. The future they are predicting is a spring done early and longer summer. After all, we only had five days of real winter here – only 5 days the ground frosted over. 4. After my typical count, I finally see it. Plants are missing. I move around the space counting again. There were 10 of 17 at site one. Seven of 11 at site two. One of 1 at site three, and 1 of 2 at site four. There were 10 plants here the other day. I am missing two, no three plants, and I see that there is a new one that has emerged – so technically, there should now be 11. The cows were up there just a week before, but there is no sign of browsing, no trail of pulled stems and leaves remaining from an ill-conceived tasting of a bitter, toxic treat. It doesn’t make sense anyway. With all the thick, delicious, moisture-rich grass, there is no compulsion to try something that smells of bitterness. Among the missing is one of the largest, oldest plants. I get on my hands and knees to look closer. I see a hole. The gophers got them. What kind of gophers are these? They like the thick, bitter milk of the milkweed, the dense poison of the root? Before my heart sinks, I see one small leave still there. It’s adjacent leaf is bit off at the stem, but nonetheless one leaf and stem has survived.

One thing I have learned is that these plants are resilient and fast growers when the conditions are right. There are two large mature plants that can be egg-laying sites for monarchs. Remember, monarchs are choosy. They like to lay eggs on plants that are more mature, so there is sufficient food for their brood. There are others still emerged and growing. The rain and cool temps have slowed them, but it has also slowed the migration of the monarchs. It has given special time for the crotch bumble bee to make a meal of the emerging flowers before more hungry competition arrives. Then, the other plants, impacted but not dead will bloom and sprout, replacing the leaves and stems of the earlier sprouted mature plants after they are eaten by ravenous caterpillars. There is a wonderful balance to everything, and I have, we all have, our roles.

Education

Giving and receiving is how balance is created. You learn. You try. You teach what you learn from trying. I have shared how remarkable Shana, the Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation Pollinator Program Coordinator, is. She has a natural affinity and relationship with plants. The tribe has been doing a great job of offering cultural education classes for tribal members and other Indigenous residents. A couple weeks ago, Shana was a presenter on plant propagation at an Indigenous botany class. She presented with Jeanette Acosta who discussed the uses of pine. It was an outstanding program. Shana and Jeanette did a great job, and I learned so much. It is wonderful to see her learning and teaching.

Showing where to cut plants for propagation

A group of us also attended a workshop at UC Davis on traditional tule stewardship and its relation with limiting bug-borne diseases. It was fascinating. The presenters were Diana Almendariz, Maidu-Wintun natural and cultural history expert, and Geoffrey M. Attardo PhD, professor at UC Davis. It was one of the best presentations I have ever been to – a Sunday well-spent!

Diana with daughter Christina demonstrating weaving a tule mat. They were incredible!

This month, Shana and I will be attending a tribal pollinator co-management workshop in Santa Fe where we will learn and share. It was a tremendous honor to be invited to contribute and connect. I am looking forward to learning and building a larger network of stewards across the land. I have an additional trip to Santa Fe for a restoration workshop. We will be learning from Santa Rosa Pueblo people and others about their stewardship work and learning through helping.

Frogs, Toads, Birds, Bumbles and Butterflies

There is so much wildlife. The small brownish-white butterflies are all over the wildflowers. I saw the first painted lady, a pair actually, yesterday. There are more large bumble bees around than I have seen in over a decade. They are flying from flower to flower and then directly at me, sending me the message that I need to leave their food zone. I try to get a photo before I heed their wishes, but they are moving too fast. I leave and go back to my office to work. The songs of hundreds of birds blend beautifully each day outside my office window. Adding to their chorus are the chirps of frogs, toads and grasshoppers. The music is joyful. Chiokoe uttesiavu weweriam (Thank you relatives)!

Wildflowers Abound

These flowers are a lifeline for so many creatures. They are only possible because of water. So far, we have had just over 16″ of rain, spread well over the rain year, not in a few big gushers. This is just above average precipitation for Hornitos, and follows an abundant rain year. It has been pleasant to see this “normal” distribution of moisture, growth and blooming. I was concerned the milkweed and other flowers might be damaged by last weeks cold storm. They weren’t. We did not get snow, but the snow was close to our elevation making for beautiful views. I would have loved a snow storm like last year in January or February. Snow helps slow things down and distribute water slowly.

3 miles down the road at higher elevation

More Oaks Planted

My mother-in-laws were visiting again, which provided a wonderful opportunity for another set of hands to plant the oak trees. We planted four together along the drainages. Although I use the existing pattern of oak trees as a guide for where to plant, I am concerned that the soil in one of the drainages is a little too clay-like. One of the biologists once told me that trees can change an entire system if they take root by bringing up moisture, shading soil with their canopy and bringing more types of life to an area. Everything I do is an experiment based on logic and observation. The plants and land know where they can survive, where they should be. My role is to help them survive by watering during their initial first two years of life in a changing climate. If they make it through, my role then becomes one of monitoring and maintenance.

While oak planting, I also brought dried elderberry seed to plant. Last year, I gathered elderberry from an old grove near the Tuolumne River to help the Southern Sierra Miwuk have enough stock for an elderberry syrup making class and for elders. I saved a little for me and dried some seed for planting this year. We will see if there is enough moisture to make this plant happy. I planted them near the small spring.

My 99th Post!

Whew – 99. I am on the edge of triple digits. The next post will be a celebration and reflection. I continue to be astonished by this journey, the wonderful plants, animals, insects, amphibians and humans that I meet. It has been a huge amount of work, but I am grateful everyday for this opportunity to steward – even if my back, shoulders, feet, legs and arms are sore. It is worth every ice pack!

My Fourth PolliNative Monarch Season Begins With Emergence of Ca. Milkweed

Take a deep breath. Release. The air is now thick with nectar. The sweet smell is hanging on the moisture molecules of humidified air. With it, comes the scent of grass, freshly grown, and a hint of oak bark still moist from the rains. I hope you can imagine this smell of spring. It invigorates me and lets so many other nature relatives know the time to emerge is near.

Drinking with my nose, walking up the 60% grade hill to the California Milkweed plots, I begin to look down wondering if my favorite plant has made its way up from underground life. It took a little searching, but I found them early last week, the soft, velvety leaves of A. Californica. I expected to perhaps find emergence on the three most mature plants, but I found a fourth as well. In finding the fourth surprise plant this early, I am feeling like things are continuing to heal, expand, and thrive.

The cattle are toward the end of their rotation on the south side of the ranch. They will be on the north side soon for 2 weeks. If I see signs of monarch usage, I will shut the new gates to the far north field. What a relief! I won’t need to stress about protecting the plants this year. Thank you to John Grimes and the National Resource Conservation Service (NRCS)!

Monitoring Rock and Log Check Dams

We have significant sediment build up behind even the smallest of check dams. Plants are beginning to take root creating a new habitat – from running water to a marshy water filter of plants and sediment that did not exist before. I get to play in the water too, so it is not all work. I added another small rock check dam even further down the drainage to continue the slowing process and make a wide spot that may be supportive of an arroyo willow. I am still considering whether I will plant one there. The water needs of the willows are considerable, even the ones adapted to this drier climate.

Planting More Oaks and Seeding

I am continuing to plant oaks, albeit slowly. The seedlings have green sprouts, so I am going to try to hurry and get them into the ground. Of course, the day I went to plant a couple, the cows were loafing with their babies nearby. I try not to disturb them too much. They look so comfortable and peaceful when they are lying on the ground, taking in the sun or languidly chewing cud. The babies can spook easy, and that can get the entire group alerted. More than the economics of running fat off them, I simply want to respect their peace if I can. As such, it makes more sense to park the vehicle and walk my tools and plants the remaining distance.

The first seedling, I plant in the exclosure near the area where the healthy oak fell over last year. That will be a good place with ample water. I place the tree very straight slightly higher up the hill from the up-turned rootball. For the second seedling, I choose a place near the grinding rock among the skeletons of old trees but near enough to living trees. It is another area near the water with shade and light. I say a prayer for each, welcoming them home and a wish for their wellness.

Mushrooms and Wildflowers

Fungi doing their job of recycling a dead snag

Bees

When the sun comes out, we are seeing some significant bee action. Honeybees, a cute silver native bee taking a nap, and fuzzy silver bumble bees have presented themselves. There were some viceroy butterflies just the other day. They are large and orange, so very exciting to see. They move too fast and don’t stay long. It is rare that I get a good look at them let alone a photo.

A very special guest made an appearance twice – a rough legged hawk. They live in the arctic north and fly south for the winter. Mariposa County is near the absolute south portion of their range. According to bird resources and my Stokes bird book, it is rare to see them this far south. I am thanking all the water for staying here and making a compelling habitat for some remarkable raptors this year, including a bald eagle the other day.

Rough-legged hawk getting ready to hover

Stewardship is Not all Outdoor Work

As much as I would like to say that stewardship work is 90% outdoors, it isn’t. I spend probably 70% of my time researching products, information, other programs, funding opportunities, reading articles, writing reports, writing grants, making connections, responding to questions (on email, blog, Facebook, Instagram, on Pollinator Partnership and Women for the Land dedicated communities), planning projects, performing data entry, sifting through photos, following up on conversations, supporting networks, ordering supplies, attending meetings/conferences, traveling to meetings/conferences and writing this blog. For this section, I will show some pictures of me out and about, which I am super uncomfortable with. I am not a selfie person (no judgement on others, just not me), but they are important to the story of this work. I’ve had to get used to it. Please bear with me.

In just the past three weeks, I attended the California Rangeland Conservation Coalition Summit, Community Alliance with Family Farmers Tech Expo in Madera, Xerces Pollinator Program, Native American Fish & Wildlife Society Pollinator Working Group, met with the Farm Advisor, met with NRCS, and attended my last Sierra Nevada Conservancy Board meeting as a board member. There is so much great information to know, people to see and connect with, and input (you hope is helpful) to provide. There is much more to be involved in that is worth my time; I just don’t have the time at this point. I am feeling pretty maxed out.

Dave captures me first thing in the morning, cat in lap, hair a mess, at the computer

At the rangeland summit, I finally meet in person two extraordinary women – Nancy and Susie Calhoun. With their other sister, they conserved their large family ranch in Livermore and continue to protect it and make habitat for all the life that exists there. HEROES!!

I saw Fadzayi Mashiri, our Farm Advisor, at the Summit as well. We made a plan for her to visit the ranch. It had been a long time since she was last here. She provided some great recommendations to improve on what I was doing and was one of the people early, early on who helped me think through improvements to this land. HERO!!

SNC Wrap-Up: Bittersweet

My final meeting as a board member of the Sierra Nevada Conservancy (SNC) was last week. California Governor Gavin Newsom appointed me to this role in 2021. I have enjoyed being on the board, working with good people both on staff and as board colleagues. I appreciated the opportunity to learn about forest stewardship and rural community resilience. I learned about the State budget process, which is wildly complex. As the first culturally Indigenous person to sit on that board, I also appreciated the opportunity to ask questions about representation of Tribal governments and Indigenous led organizations, about how inclusive and equitable funds are being distributed, about why some projects call for herbicides, and trail safety and careful placement with regard to Indigenous needs. Safe, inclusive, carefully planned projects make the outdoor experience for all life better.

My last day was bittersweet –sweet in that I am leaving to deeply focus on natural resources, climate and tribes, bitter in that I absolutely love working with the entire staff of the SNC. The staff are so accomplished, professional, competent and devoted to their mission to restore and enhance the extraordinary natural resources and communities of California’s Sierra-Cascade region, while protecting them from wildfire and a changing climate. It has been such a privilege to serve the public, rural communities (which I love), the Newsom Administration and be a voice for my nature relatives. I will miss this work and all of the people.

A special ribbon skirt Jakki made for me to wear. It tells a story about the land I live with

Wanderings

Even though I am busy every day, I never lose sight of how grateful I am for the opportunities that have come my way to serve, help, make a living, and be a land steward. To know you make a difference is a gift, and it is a gift everyone can access. Whether you plant milkweed where there is none, sit on an advisory committee or board in your community, organize with others to make good, helpful change, you make a difference. Step into life, take opportunities with good intent, be a hero for a butterfly, bumble bee, forest or community. You got this!

Wrapping 2023 and Welcoming 2024

Pollinator Program Coordinator Shana leads her team of volunteers

When people ask, “How was your holiday season?”, I reply, “Absolutely fantastic.” Not only did I have waves of family and friends, who I love, visit, but I was out with my Southern Sierra Miwuk Nation pollinator family as well. I can think of few ways more precious to spend my time than helping care for our Maala Bwia (Mother Earth) with others who care deeply about our butterfly, bee and plant relatives. I also love to watch Shana, the Pollinator Program Coordinator, work. She is so knowledgeable, organized, a terrific problem solver and hard worker.

In December, I helped her and several other volunteers plant Xerces Society Habitat Kit plants in the Oak Fire burn scar. Shana has collaborated with several property stewards whose land was burned over, and some whose entire homes burned completely, to repopulate the land with native pollinator plants. It was incredible to see the scale of the fire from the ground. We had to dig through layers of ash to plant – giving the natural world just a little head start and hungry life forms, looking for food, a place they can count on. It was also very encouraging to see so many native plants regrown, including oak seedlings sprouting. Like my people, the plants are resilient.

Shana going through plant lists and paperwork with land steward Kathleen

This work is sacred; it is living in reciprocity… giving your time, energy, and attention to supporting the life of others – human, insect, plant, mammal or otherwise – that support you. As Indigenous people, we can feel moved to honor someone for their contributions — and, as a people, we are so talented, creative, resourceful and generous. It was in this context that one of the Pollinator Team members, Trisha, gifted a gorgeous doll to Shana, which Trisha had made. The medicine in the doll was so palpable. Like Shana, the doll is a warrior. Trisha even made a miniature spear of obsidian. Wow.

After taking the photo, I was talking to another volunteer, then turned around to see Trisha extending a doll to me too. I was shocked and so honored that she would gift me such a beautifully made item. The doll she gave to me was a wood gatherer. I love it. She is a powerful piece as well, with her carefully crafted wood bundle on her back, wood wrap on her front and an expertly carved miniature hatchet with a blade of stone on her hip. She is so cool. Thank you Trisha for your thought of me and being moved by the energy we all posses to make things better for our relatives. Aho.

We did this work in December, so gifting was on the mind I suppose. One of my favorite relatives, Pete, surprised me with a gourd canteen gift that he grew and prepared for carrying water. Pete (Mescalero Apache), and his wife Jakki (TX Cherokee), are close friend-family. We are probably even biologically related somewhere. My grandfather told me how Yaquis and Apaches are cousins. I found out later that indeed, my Yaqui people used to hide the children with the Apaches when we were being hunted. Likewise, when the Apaches had their fights, they stored their children with us. How sad that this was necessary, but what a beautiful act to protect one another’s future. Reciprocity again.

It is difficult to express how grateful I was to receive both these gifts; truly, it was overwhelming. Compliments are difficult for me. The work is its own reward. Fortunately, we had a lot of work to do, so I could put the energy from my heart, swollen with joy, into planting. Chiokoe uttesia Pete, in weweria. Thank you Pete, my relative.

The Hilltop Freezes – Finally

We need things to freeze so life can rest. Freezes also help retain balance by eliminating population overages [Think: grasshoppers]. For the last four days, there has been a crystal white coating of frost on the ground. Troughs and baths have a solid shell at the top. My breath has been visible as I go about doing my morning chores. Just a few weeks ago I could still go outside in a tank top for a little bit, but now a large jacket is required attire. The rain has come more frequently, and I am wishing for snow.

Beatrix puzzled by the solid sheet she encounters

With the cold weather, I will admit that I have felt more sluggish – wanting to curl up with a blanket, book and hot cup of tea. Although the pace is slower, there is still work to be done. I have the cross fence going in to protect the California Milkweed. My cattleman’s son, Chaz, is helping me with that. He does great work. I am still planting a few native plants, and doing quite a bit of seeding. I received 10lbs of narrowleaf milkweed seed that I am sowing. I also just received my order of California seed mix for habitats and meadows, which contain native grasses and wildflower. With the rain and easy ground to work, it is a fantastic time to plant seeds.

When my mothers-in-law were visiting for the holidays, it was great. I had an extra set of hands to help. For regular readers of this blog, it will seem as though every guest to my home is put to work. I promise; they are always asking to help. Liz is a wonderful helper too. Every time she visits, she is up for working on laborious tasks. She helped dig two trenches one year for rain catchment. She helped build up brush piles and move wood another time. This time, she helped me plant milkweed seeds. It is not too intense of work, but it does take time to give the seeds a quality head start. Sometimes, you can just broadcast seeds, throw them out in the area you want them to grow. This can work, but does provide easy pickings for birds, and you are just hoping there were more seeds than bird pecks. What Liz and I decided to do was to create a small disturbance in the soil with a rake, toss the seeds in the new furrows, then rake back over the soil in the opposite direction. Using this method, the idea is to cover the seeds with soil, decreasing the possibility of “feeding the birds” primarily and planting seeds secondarily.

We did broadcast milkweed seeds in the arroyo around the rock and log drop structures given that the seeds would fall into deeper spaces between the rock into the soil – those spaces being like a deeper furrow. We chose this area because the rocks will slow runoff, and soil moisture will last longer in these spaces. This should give the milkweed roots more moisture longer to use for growth.

Monitoring

Monitoring the various conservation practices and the general health of the ranch are my favorite activities. Walking the hills, valleys and cliff sides, crossing creeks and breathing in the smells of the Earth bring me happiness. I make sure the guzzler and catchment system are functioning, the rain return in place and that the rock and branch access “ladder” for small creatures is built up to the top. I look at the creek beds and banks for changes, the health of the trees, the clarity and volume of water, what animals are around, pick up any trash that has floated in (by air or water) and take note of anything else that seems interesting.

Wanderings

My garden is continuing to provide gifts despite the cold weather. Tomatoes, peas and arugula make for a wonderful salad in January. We still have small tomatoes beginning to grow. I don’t know how that is possible with all the leaves dropped. The peas are still blooming as well. There were two delicate purple flowers, the beginnings of pea pods. Maala Bwia is also continuing to provide a show of magnificence. Every day I am able to capture gorgeous photos.

We live in such a beautiful place, and on a beautiful planet. Daily, I am very conscious of my good luck. As with Yin and Yang, it compels me to consider the struggle, war, hatred and hard times all over the human world. At the very moment I take a deep breath and smile at seeing the sunset, on the other side of the world a woman my age is exhaling through sobs – sobbing for a life, a person, a land she loved now bombed to oblivion.

Each of us have times of suffering – some more than others. We pray, bargain, make wishes for peace. I know each time I make a wish it is for peace. In truth, peace is a difficult concept, even a fool’s errand. A favorite philosopher, Vine Deloria said “Peace is not possible”, that humans were by nature “violent and greedy”, that what we should aspire to is “respect”. If we understand the innate worth of one another and all things, how is it that we can harm or exploit? This concept was transformative for me as a young person. It aligned with my experiences, the hate that I did not understand, the hate that made me hate, which makes me less of what I could, and should, be.

Like the wood gatherer doll Trisha gave me, I would pick up memories, and experiences that would fuel me, things that I could burn to keep going – the lack of resources of my family, one stick; the desire to contribute to my people, another stick; the need to protect my nature relatives, more sticks. But, there was more – whispers from from my ancestors saying, “Never forget they made your mother go to the back door of the restaurant to purchase food to make her feel like she was nothing.” and, “Never forget they told you, as you stood holding your little brown brother next to you, that you couldn’t swim in the pool, which your parent’s rent money helped pay for.” and, “Always remember that things were taken from you – relatives, knowledge, songs, relationships, language – the things you are crying about when you don’t know why you are crying.” and…

My DNA was built both on the resilience that was necessary because of the hardship, as well as the hardship itself. Inside those helices are where the echos “Never forget” live. And, I do…I do remember everything my grandfather told me, my mother, all my other relatives. It is a warning of what’s possible as much as it is a memory. So, yes, I keep it, but I cannot let it define me. I can’t or else it would consume me. It is the kind of power that converts hate to atrocity. I don’t allow it to kill my potential, my joy, optimism and love. This is why the concept of respect is powerful. Peace is perfection, but respect is achievable. Anger is so deep, what weights it down, keeps it diluted, and allows the light inside to beam, is the knowledge that there is value to the pain and, believe it or not, in those who give it.

Respect. Without it, there would be no end to the fighting, the anger and pain — and that is no way to live. You cannot grow things when you are killing them too.

Light in darkness as the moon rises and shines

Butterfly Explosion

If I was in a dream, I would not know the difference. Real life has been unbelievable. There have been so many butterflies here, it is like a multicolor, zigzaggy snow globe. Painted ladies, west coast ladies, white ones, yellow sulfurs, hairstreaks, buckeyes, and so many others. There have even been additional monarch sightings! I’ve not been able to identify all that have fluttered and flitted their way around the plants and around me as I make my way through chores, a large, joyous grin across my face.

Not only butterflies, but bees are still abundant. We are getting european honeybees as well as a variety of native bees. One floated in front of my face today. There are still dragonflies, and a plethora of two types of beetles are eating my garden and flowers. The most fun has to be the toads. All the babies are now full size. When I near the toad pond, I catch a glimpse of pickle-textured eyeballs just above the waterline. They quickly dip back under as I walk by or lean in to get a closer look. The toads are soiling the water into that creamy jade green color. I add fresh rain water daily to try to stay ahead of the muck.

The warmth has continued during the day, even as the overnight temperatures have dipped into the 40s. There are still a myriad of flower blooming – pacific aster, goldenrod, butterfly bush, black-eyed susans, maybe one or two sunflowers, marigolds, tarweed, doveweed, vinegarweed, california fuchsia, verbena, and from my garden, basil, pumpkin and arugula are also bloomed.

Webs have been flying through the air with their cargo of precious spider babies. They land everywhere. Meanwhile, the tarantulas are moving about. There are not as many as last year. I’ve counted 22 so far. I have seen two other very large spiders and captured an image of one of them. The other was a wolf spider – the largest I have seen of that kind – and I have seen some very large ones. Sadly, I did not get a photo of that one. They are really beautiful.

Water is still running on the ranch. Odom Creek has considerable volume and continues to fill the neighbor’s pond. The spring on Spring Creek is continuing to produce, but the water runs only about 100′ before disappearing. Remarkably, the soil area behind the rock check dam is still green. The cows are back and have eaten the vegetation in that area, but it is still moist and producing new shoots of grass.

One of the down-sides of excluding cattle from the riparian areas has been the proliferation of thistle and cockleburrs. While the cows may not eat them, they trample those plants at the start, so they don’t get as good a foothold in the flatter areas. Seeing the cockleburrs up close brought back memories of talks with my grandfather. How he hated cockleburrs. He told me how they would slice into him as he crawled through hedgerows and fields trying to avoid being killed in WWII. It was after he moved from Omaha Beach into the hillsides trying to take out the bunkers that were slaughtering allies on the beach. He said they would stick into him and get into his clothing making him miserable. What a plant.

We had a Fall storm that was 1/2″ in just over an hour. My rainwater tanks filled more allowing me to extend my ability to irrigate as the weather turned hot again. I checked the guzzler, and it worked perfectly, as designed. It also filled that tank more providing fresh water for wildlife to access.

Note the water levels as indicated by the scum line. You can see that the rain filled the tank higher than the most recent scum line, which is below water level. You can also see how high the water once was by the highest scum ring.

The rain in late September was welcome and left the air clear, soil moist and made for dramatic skies.

Pollinator Education Continues

I have been continuing my pollinator education work. I joined members of my Yaqui Tribe at Indigenous People’s Day in Sacramento, where I included pollinator materials and plants at the table. I was also honored to be asked to teach with my pollinator team friends, Kristie and Deedee, at the recent Traditional Lifeways gathering. We discussed native plants, seed collection, medicine and food uses, pollinator relatives and then we had everyone plant native pollinator plants in an area we chose before the event. It was an incredible experience. As I began to speak, a monarch flew through our gathering of people. I nearly lost it. This is exactly why we need to plant as much habitat as possible – to bring back their population from the edge and to ensure that the next generation has the magical experience of seeing this large, bright butterfly as a regular part of their lives. Oh, I also completed my Pollinator Stewardship certification program and passed. The Pollinator Partnership conferred my badge – I am an official Pollinator Steward!

Yaqui relatives bring people around the healing drum

Up Next

This week I will be picking up the Xerces Kits for the Tribe’s Pollinator program and for another farmer here locally, Raw Roots Farm. I shared plants with them last year. They had a profusion of monarchs this year. I am so excited by their work. I am still waiting for clearance to build the cross fence from NRCS. I have my vendor and materials – all I need is NRCS to green light the work. The cross fence is to protect the rare california milkweed stands during caterpillar time. I am also waiting for a grant from Point Blue Roots program to begin my guzzler work. I am placing another one in the back 40 with a rainwater tank and catchment structure. I imagine I will be helping the Tribe’s Pollinator Coordinator plant plants this Fall. So…I am never without stewardship work to do.

Wanderings

Midwife to Monarchs

The last of the monarchs left yesterday. They are born, dry-off, test their wings and then fly away. Green to black to orange, black and white – there is now no color save yellow – yellow grass, yellow tarweed, yellow sunflowers, yellow creek flowers. Yellow is the Fall, a time of maturity, a time of harvest, filling us like a cornucopia. I harvest joy, not crops, from knowing that something as remarkable as a butterfly can exist. My project has matured attracting monarchs at their journey beginning and ending. I have witnessed flights, egg laying, caterpillars large and small, silk spinning, “J” making, chrysalises and births to flights again. I am full. Fall has filled me.

In my life, I never thought I would be a midwife to monarchs. In truth, they don’t need me. They’ve been doing their thing and surviving well without me. Unimpressed with that knowledge, I monitored them daily to ensure their chrysalises were there, their foundations were intact, and that everything was a-ok. When they were born, I watched them even closer to make sure they were able to gain a strong footing.

Glad I was there; monarch #2, the closest chrysalis to the ground, did not have as much space between the tank to which its chrysalis was attached and the retaining wall adjacent to the tank. She rolled out of her chrysalis, then latched to it, then a move to more solid footing, and she fell. I watched her thinking she would find footing, but the space was small and the dried grass too short and flimsy. There she wiggled on her side trying to gain purchase on something, legs grasping at the air hoping to find something to cling to. Quickly, I broke off a stem from a dead sunflower and carefully held it to her, close in her vicinity, but not near her delicate, still wet wings. I did not want to chance an error. She grabbed on, and I hoisted her carefully in the air allowing her to hang her wings toward the ground so they could unfurl, expand and become strong for her impending journey. I was captivated. After my brain was released from the haze of wonder at this magnificent creature only inches from me, I realized that I now “owned” this lifeline I threw for the 3 to 4 hours it takes for the wings to dry. Didn’t think of that when I jumped to the rescue. I stood there, holding this stick with a glistening jewel at its end, contemplating what I could do to ensure her safety, and my relief. I tried to encourage her to step onto the larger dead stick of the sunflower remains. She wouldn’t have it. Fortunately, there was a soil-filled container with moist dirt that made it easy, yet sturdy, for me to plant the stick in, slowly, carefully. It worked. We both were secure.

In total, there were 11 confirmed chrysalises and caterpillars, with some other surprise monarchs I found drying off. If I add in the surprise monarchs, it brings the total to 14.

I tried to watch every birth, learning new things every time, like seeing how the chrysalis elongates two days before birth, the black color the day of birth, and the colors visible minutes before birth. I became a pro, yelling to whomever was around, usually David who was long since over all of this, “It’s going to blow!” David responding, “Cool,” and going about his business – if saying anything at all.

Gorgeous black – the caterpillars body in a transparent case

It never gets old watching the birth of a butterfly. It is a miracle every time. My friend Francisca was over one day when a chrysalis was about to open. She watched, excited like me, camera in hand, at the miracle before us. It is so nice to share this with people who care. The monarchs are great ambassadors.

At the end of the day yesterday, I watched as my final charge alighted. She circled around me well above my head, flitted here, flitted there, then flew off to the south where eventually she will make a turn toward the coast. I worry less about these babies; there is considerable habitat along her route – thanks to a clarion call for “all hands on deck” in planting milkweed and nectar plants from many organizations and individuals. It is your work, your compassion, your money donation turned to milkweed that will keep her path safer than it would have been only two years ago. The route is not without danger – cars, dragonflies, birds, pesticides, condos and golf courses instead of habitat – but there is much more habitat than there was. Thank you reader. Truly, thank you.

Oh good friend, fly high and safe. You will make it to the coast, and I will see you next year in this milkweed patch. Lay your eggs. As you transition your knowledge to the next generation of where you were born and where the good flowers are, feel secure that I will be here, taking care of your children then.

Grasshoppers Decimate Plants

California Milkweed seedpod eaten through by grasshoppers

This year is bad for grasshoppers. Even after 21 years, I cannot discern a pattern to which years will be plague-level. They can be bad in drought years and in water years, hot weather or cool weather. If someone knows more or has a theory, please share.

All new plants and many mature plants are eaten. Even sage, with its gorgeous fragrant secretion, have been consumed. Some of the Xerces hedgerow bushes and most of the plants closest to the house are still surviving – but it may only be a matter of time. Perhaps Erma, my toad friend, is keeping some of the hoppers at bay. Most of the plants in her section are still intact. Sadly, the sage and wormwood are being consumed. It is near complete devastation. In years past, this level of destruction would crush me – since so much time and work has been spent in making a healthy, full-spectrum native plant habitat. However, I have seen the plants reemerge in subsequent years. Perhaps not all survive, but most come back, and this level of sustainability is exactly what I want to see. This reemergence of milkweeds and nectar plants demonstrates establishment, which is a huge success.

Even so, I still need to intervene to give native plants the advantage. The grasshoppers are so bad that they are eating the seedpods of the crucial California Milkweed — before they are ready to open and disburse. I took a closer look to understand how complete the decimation was, and found that they are eating the seeds as well.

Immature seeds that have been partially consumed. Seeds should be a dark brown

In late June, I went to the large plots searching for pods to save. I had to act fast; many plants had been consumed already.

I trudged up the hill finding intact pods on plants. Some were still small. The cooler temperatures delayed milkweed growth resulting in some plants emerging later and not having as much time to mature, develop flowers and seedpods. I picked pods knowing they were not quite mature. Since it is this late in the season, I know they will continue to dry in the bag and produce fully mature seeds. I did this in other years when grasshoppers were bad. When I pulled, most pods had limited resistance, but still secreted the “milk” from the plant. It felt as if I was detaching a baby from its mother’s umbilical cord – separating it from its nutrients. I promised the plants I would return the seed when it was safe.

In total, I collected 24 pods. With approximately 8 seeds per pod, I will be able to distribute up to 192 seeds back to their locations. I will fulfill the promise to the mother plants probably in October when the hopper danger has passed. As I went back down the hill, wind whipping around, I ensured the bag was folded tightly, and placed under my arm. The wind had tried to take the bag from my hands several times already. The lightweight treasure is easy to roust. Today, at least, I could claim victory.

June Bumbles

June was a great month for bumble bees. I had many sightings to add to the citizen science project Bumble Bee Watch. If you want to make a difference for bumble bees, besides ensuring habitat and nectar, you can also help scientists track them. Set up an account today and upload images as you find these critical, fuzzy friends doing good work in your garden.

Wanderings

It is remarkable how a place can change in just two weeks. I was gone on vacation and came back to more skeletal plants and even brighter yellow grass. As dry as the grass is, the soil continues to hold moisture. I placed my hands in the dirt as soon as I got home just to check in with the land. Springs are still flowing and areas with a high water level are still green. There was a horrific 110 degree day while I was gone, and David made one fatal mistake. He did not double check the seedling trays. The water can evaporate rapidly from the shallow basins drying out the media in the same day. With the temp so high and no additional infusion of water, the seedling media dried out. I lost half of the seedlings that were sprouted. Fortunately, several still made it though. Life on the ranch can be tough especially if you are not always monitoring.

David has been building a carport, which is another opportunity for rainwater catchment. We will add some screens, PVC pipes and tanks in the coming months. This week, hopefully, my log and rock drop structures will be put in the arroyo to slow runoff in storms. This will preserve soil moisture and build the channel back up. We will be prepared for next year.

As I write this early in the morning, the birds are beginning to sing. The coyotes just finished their morning chorus. The young ones have now joined in. Another generation will take their place on this land, helping the ecosystem by eating rodents, rabbits and other fare to keep populations in balance. If only they ate grasshoppers too.

Bright Sides Despite a Spring Without Butterflies

Looking on the bright side – that has been my reflection for the last month. I have come to terms with the fact that the monarchs skipped me this year. I’ve heard reports from many friends and readers that they have spotted a monarch or had multiples in their gardens. All sightings have been friends/family closer to the coast or higher in elevation. They skipped me. I can’t blame them. It has been very cool here. It seems that many hung out in gardens on the other side of the coast range for days waiting out the weather. Then, they were able to cruise another 100 or so miles, past me, to just up the mountain. Oh well. I am glad they are surviving and making their journey.

Maybe they will stop on the way back – or next year.

We have so much gorgeous milkweed – at least four different species – narrowleaf, ca milkweed, showy and woolly pod. They are all healthy, strong and growing well. I thought, “Well, maybe someone will get some use from them”. We have had only a handful of butterflies, which I mentioned and identified in my last post. I’ve seen just one other since, a painted lady (I think – since they flit so fast). No butterflies…but…something else just as exciting – bumble bees, and almost 30 of them at one time!

I believe this is a bee hole. Note the constructed sleeve

As I have reported in a past blog, bumble bees are in decline. They are ground nesters and susceptible to disturbances in soil movement. Pesticides and herbicides also account for their decline. Something else I noticed, when the sage was in full bloom, and attracting all types of pollinators, the European honey bees seemed to gang up on the less numerous bumbles and push them away. While they found another flower to harvest from, it made me wonder if all the bee boxes everywhere aren’t causing some problems. My neighbor two parcels south always has a person drop over 30 hives each year for several months. I love honey, and honeybees, but as with anything, scale is critical to consider as we think about policy and our own choices about how we steward land. I have a rogue honeybee hive in a nearby creek too that I love to visit. There is something marvelous about a group of animals that escape their human serving bonds in an effort to become wild, and live on their own terms. It is about living in balance; we all need one another to thrive. It is a partnership, a relationship that is multi-directional, not ones’ needs more than another. We must respect one another to make things work for all of us. Again, it is all about scale.

Not only are the bumbles using the blooms, I’ve seen more tarantula hawks than ever flying around, enjoying milkweed (and other) blooms.

A tarantula hawk finds something interesting on one of the spent flowers

The tarantula hawks are big, with a long nose, deep black coloration, a large abdomen with stinger and small (as compared to their body size) orange wings. As I was walking the ranch, they seemed to be everywhere I went. When they fly close to you, you pay close attention. They are not aggressive, but can sting humans if provoked. I have heard from others around here that their sting is extremely painful. I pay them much respect. Their name holds a grim tale for one of my favorite creatures on the ranch, the tarantula. If you want to learn more, this Natural History Museum site seems a credible source.

Bad News: Grasshoppers

It is a horrendous year for grasshoppers. They are not yet fully grown and have caused significant, heartbreaking destruction. Sixty percent of the Xerces plants I painstakingly planted have been eaten. Some are making a come-back, but they will not stand a chance. All I can hope for is that their roots were strong enough to return next year. Fortunately, some of the early blooming nectar plants already grew, bloomed and seeded. So far, all the new Xerces milkweed has remained untouched. I don’t hold out hope that they will be spared. The hoppers ate the Ca Milkweed down to sticks the year before last.

The hoppers are also shredding my existing, mature plants. They murdered three of the four big leaf maples last year. Only one emerged with leaves, and sadly, will likely be finished off this year. The sages that are further from the house have been mangled as was the buddleia. The further from the house, the more decimation there is. They are plague level. While there are natural predators all around, there are not enough to keep them in control. A friend at the Tribe told me that their ancestors used to use fire to round them up and eat them. I am thinking about starting a grasshopper farming operation. Insect food is the trend for the future!

I began collecting seed pods from several of the plants so that the hoppers did not eat them before they could spread. You can see in some of the photos below, the hoppers are already taking a bite into the seed pods. Fortunately, the pods are the last of the plant they will eat, which gives them time to mature and me time to collect them. The Ca Milkweed is critical.

Good News: Milkweed Spreading

Another “bright side” is that many of the older milkweeds are beginning to spread. It has taken four years, but they are established. For Xerces and Ca Wildlife Board (via Mariposa County Resource Conservation District), funders of my increased scale for planting, this is a great return on investment. I know I will have nectar plants with the prescribed grazing and riparian exclusion during blooming times, but previously, milkweed was much rarer on the ranch. Now, through these investments, milkweed is established in greater numbers and places on this rangeland…and they are doing it without supplemental water. This is a huge win for pollinators, since rare bumblebees seem to love the flowers as well as monarchs.

Maintaining Habitat

Most of the work I do is not as exciting as planting new, healthy plants. It is straightening gopher baskets, re-piling rocks, checking water, fixing fence, cutting grass and limiting or removing invasives – among many other things. The cool weather has given me the opportunity to work longer and more hours into the season to get things done. Recently, I checked the wildlife guzzler. It is still filled with water, though it has decreased a bit. There is evidence of birds using it. The cows knocked down the panels, and the calves can get in, so the rock and branch ramp to the guzzler was disturbed. I re-piled the stones and branches so that smaller creatures have access the guzzler. I also cleaned out some leaf material from the water.

Another not real sexy task is removing seed heads and flowers from the thistle. With the rains, it has really taken off this year. I have had to travel away from the ranch several times this spring, which has meant that the thistle has already bloomed, and some are already gone to seed. Dressed in my canvas overalls and rose gloves, I took out probably 300 heads from the creek out of a million. It is important to use a thick plastic bag that seals. Thistle is so sharp, it can slice through a regular plastic bag and release the seeds you worked so hard to prevent from spreading. For this effort, I used an empty dog food bag with a Velcro closure. It worked great. While I was cutting off bloom and seed heads, I saw a bumble using the thistle blooms. It made me feel slightly better for being so derelict in my responsibilities. At least in those areas, there will be a few thousand less chances for spread.

Befriending a Toad

There have had been many frogs and toads around the ranch. While I have not seen many of the small tree frogs (that used to hang out on the doors and windows) in the last 15 years, I have seen several toads near the house each year (maybe that is why I don’t see the small frogs). Amphibians are remarkable animals. They live in and out of water and eat a significant number of insects per day. I am particularly grateful to the toads. They eat grasshoppers, and I have one lovely lady that is protecting my medicine and tea plant area. Her name is Erma (pronounced Air-d-ma, the Spanish way, but I linger on the “air” part trying to make it sound like a “ribit”.). I think she has been in that same location for several years as she can burrow in the ground to avoid dry conditions for quite some time. The area Erma is occupying is watered regularly with rainwater I collected over the winter. There is also a trough in that section I keep half filled with rain water. I still have two Xerces willows in pots in the trough. Their roots are extensive. The leaf cutter bees seem to love their leaves, so I kept a couple at the house instead of planting them in the creek. Erma loves soaking in the trough. I find her clinging to the willow roots or just on the escape ramp, her eyes and nostrils barely out of the water. She is so beautiful.

In years past, the toads would defecate on the patio. Their poo is quite large and slimy, as you might imagine. I have not seen any poop on the patio for a few years. Erma, it seems, prefers to poo in the water trough. Even though fresh water is added daily, it became a creamy jade green with floaters. Ick, I know. I wasn’t sure if I should clean out the trough, or if she preferred it, um…highly organic. I believe, for my elevation, it is beyond the breeding time. I did not see any tadpoles when the water was less green, so decided to dump the water.

What an effort. I have rocks in the bottom for habitat and to create various depths. No way was I able to lift it, not even David is strong enough, and I did not want to tip it and disturb Erma. That meant I had to use a bucket to bail the water out to a level where it could be lifted. What a messy muck. The water would splash up hitting my face and clothes. Then, I would walk it over to a planted area, bucket full, to release the load. I was thinking that dispersed, these nutrients would be good for the plants and soil. Back and forth, I walked bucket sloshing with the green goop. David sat at the patio table, feet kicked up on another chair, coffee in hand, enjoying the “zen” of my repetitive movement. I don’t mind him watching me work. I enjoy the company. It was a beautiful morning. Finally, I was near the bottom. David put his coffee down and helped me take the trees out, move the rocks and pots away from the site. We lifted the trough to the other end of the patio where I dumped the rest. I rinsed the rocks, escape ramp and roots of the muck. The trough was replaced, and everything put back. With newly rinsed buckets, I began walking back and forth from the south rainwater tank refilling the trough. It was done. All the while, Erma was watching me from her spot under the sage in the dirt. Her throat was pulsing as she stared, which is not something I see her do often. I don’t know if that meant she was happy, anxious or just digesting some bug. No matter, she will have a fresh trough of water for her soaking…and pooing enjoyment.

If you want to learn more, here is an interesting citizen science resource I found that covers amphibians. From this site, there are other credible links to official resources.

Erma hanging out in the green muck before cleaning

Blooms Continue

One of the keys to high quality habitat is to have plants that bloom throughout the year. Currently in bloom are buckwheat, sage, lavender, showy milkweed, sunflowers, primrose, yarrow, verbena, gum weed, salvia, Mexican sunflower, and I just found one black-eyed susan. In the creek, the yellow flowers are still in bloom – and of course, thistle. On deck is more sunflowers, buddleia (if the hoppers don’t get it first), narrowleaf milkweed and golden rod. These all have unopened buds.

Excluded Riparian Areas Doing Well

The Odom Creek riparian area excluded from grazing this year is continuing to do great. The black oak and cotton wood seedlings that showed up last year are thriving. There is plenty of yellow flowers in the Spring Creek. Both are still running, but Odom is big and still cold from snow melt. Walking near it you feel the temperature change. You also feel humidity from the evaporation. David found small frogs hopping in the creek and burrowed in the dirt. A young redtail reprimanded us for entering her domain. The mass of rushing water really changed things on the creek. It opened up some of the more narrow upstream passages. I don’t see the massive narrowleaf milkweed, or any of the other milkweed I found last year. The water may have rushed the roots away. There is a massive pile of sand and rock deposited from the storms. Maybe something new and good was brought downstream. I did see many datura and found some vinigarweed beginning to grow (Love that stuff!). Generally, all of the oaks have never looked better. Their leaves are full and deep green. The blue oak seedlings in the exclosures are continuing to do well. Gads, they grow so slow though!

Unusual Visitor

When David and I arrived back home the other day and let the dogs out, a little piglet emerged from the north water tank area. I think she saw our chubby lab Beatrix and thought it was its mom. We were in shock. This has never happened in the 21 years we’ve been here. Immediately, we began looking around for mama pig. Wild pigs are extremely large and intelligent. The last thing we wanted to do was get in between a mom and her baby. David, being the sweet giant he is, immediately went into the house, cut up an apple and tried to give it to the baby. It charged him, and he gave up. I said, “Let’s just leave it alone. Mom is either watching us right now, or she left it because there is something wrong with it.” I thought about what I might do if it was orphaned, and decided I would let nature take its course. They are non-native after all. We went into the house. When we came back out 15 minutes later, it was gone.

Sows (female pigs) leave their drove (or herd) to have their babies. We found the area where it appeared the large mother bedded down. I don’t know if she birthed her babies close to the house, but it seems she felt safe enough obscured in the tall grass, David had yet to cut, to have her family close by us dogs and humans. I take that as a compliment. Wild pigs are non-native and very destructive to the ground (If you look at an early blog post “Wild Pig Attack”, you will see how they ripped up one of my first pollinator plots.). However, it is a privilege and wonder to see anything as unique as this.

Planting Seeds for the Months Ahead

I spent the morning the other day cleaning up, repotting, and planting seeds in the seed tray. I seeded marigolds, black-eyed susan, coneflower, and road-side sunflowers. I also put in some seeds for my garden – spinach, tomato, basil, carrot, radish and dill. I have been eating out of the garden -lettuce, arugula, peas, chives, mint and onion – and want to continue through the summer. I planted a lot of basil. My sister enjoys making pesto, and I greatly enjoy eating it. I plan to bring her the 18 seedlings for her cooking pleasure.

Wanderings

Bright sides. This September, it will be four years since I began this habitat journey. I will save my full reflections for an anniversary post, but, despite the heartbreaks, stickers, and injuries, this ride has been one of the best things I have done with my abilities. I have learned incredible things. One is to chill out and look on the bright side. This spring we have not had many raptors, which is highly unusual. In fact, it has never been that way in the open grassland part of the ranch. The sky has has never seen a day without a red tail. My ears have captured the bouncing chords of p-eee-ahh, p-eee-ahh and brought them inside my head, and then to my heart, every day. There is a family that lives on the hill. They soar with their babies about now, in threes and sometimes fours, if one from the previous year makes it home. My ranch is named after them…Taawe Bwia, or land of the hawk, in my native language. Where are all the taawim (hawks)?

During the deluge this past winter, the drops turned to torrents, cascading downhill, filling every hole and then coming out every hole, spiraling, like eddys, when in the flats. I remember seeing air bubbles coming from the holes. I thought it was from the energy of the movement. But, maybe it was from what lived below.

As I look back on the blog posts, the imprints of my memories, thoughts and emotions, I see much disdain for the underground relatives, the gophers, moles and voles. Whatever was taking down my plants – I resented. While I always respected their right to live, to have families and feed their families, just as I do, I was still distraught. All the work, the expense, the hopes and desperation I had packaged in my heart, my singular focus on doing my part to help the monarchs survive, it blocked my senses, the whispers from my ancestors, telling me u betuku bwia weweriam, empo Heather hikkaha. Hikkaha (The under land relatives, Heather you listen. Listen.). Last year, I began to hear. I made peace. I remembered that they are aerating the land, allowing water to go deep to roots, allowing other creatures, like bees and snakes to have homes when they are not there. They are teaching me what belongs and at what scale. They are helping me access soil so I don’t have to dig, and they are bringing in yo’oem (my ancestors), the hawks to me. They give their lives for Taawe. The gophers have been so generous, and I have been so ignorant. Without them, their size and numbers, Taawe cannot be here – and that is a tragedy. Taawe eats mice, lets me know to be alert when something is passing through, reminds me how we are connected to above and below, and reminds me that I am seen, even when I think I am alone someplace or in my mind’s space. I am part of something.

Today, as I walked among the yarrow that is finally spreading beyond the cages, I saw a bloom wiggle, then drop. A crunch, crunch. Another wiggle, then drop more, then one more time and crunch, crunch. I did not try to interfere. I did not growl. A slight smile crossed my face. I said, “Take what you need.”

Taawe will be home soon.

Waiting For Monarchs. More California Milkweed and Visitors.

Blooms begin to emerge on the California Milkweed

It is breathtakingly gorgeous in the foothills right now. Between the calm temperatures, billions of wildflowers, nectar-laced scents, and avian concerts, it is magic. There continues to be water running in the lesser creeks and drainage’s, and the soil moisture content is high. With the increasing heat, the grass has grown a foot in a few days obscuring some of the native plants that were just inching out. Fortunately, some of the milkweeds got started before the recent warm-up, but, at least for the milkweeds, grazing has continued to give them a chance.

I walk up the steep slope to the largest A. Californica (California Milkweed) patch daily to count the plants and monitor them for caterpillars. Two days ago, I saw an orange-ish butterfly large enough to be seen by my limited eyesight. It was too far away to see if it was a monarch. I also did not have my glasses on. I waited for some time, but it did not return. Consequently, I am no longer leaving the house without my glasses and binoculars. As of today, I counted 16 individual plants. Just yesterday it was 14, and a couple days before that 13 and 9. So far, no emergence in the next largest site near the house. However, the one plant in the SW facing site has emerged and the west facing site has one of the two plants emerged. Unfortunately, the locations where I installed the Xerces plugs or 2021 collected seeds are not emerged. I imagine they may take a couple years to establish.

Tree Work

It is an emotional moment to see a grand tree cut up. If you are a regular reader, you will recall that a beautiful, healthy oak tree that was growing at an angle toppled over in the Spring Creek this past January. Between the angle, the saturated soil, wind and freeze of water on the branches, the weight became too great, and the grand tree pulled up by her root ball. It was also a reminder to me to be extremely careful as I walk among the oaks. I had just passed under her the day before.

When the tree fell, her weight was propped up on its branches and near my riparian fence gate. The smaller branches could give way releasing her massive bulk onto anything under it. It was a dangerous situation. I had no choice but to remove her.

These trees are ancestor relatives. Their lives have spanned 4 or 5 generations of my human family. Imagine their perspective of us always coming and going, building then tearing down, seeking and finding, singing and sleeping. We must be so peculiar to them. I love trees deeply. I appreciate their shade, smell, cavities breeding life, branches for singing birds, the food they provide, their moist soil under the canopy and how their roots are deep and connected. They have so much to teach us.

It is within this context and within the sensitivity of my soul, that a small piece of my heart breaks when the saw goes through my fallen relative. For such a solemn moment, the right sawyer is needed. I was grateful that Nick Brochini was available. Nick is Miwuk and understands the gift of the tree. He does not take it for granted. I don’t have to explain myself when I need to touch her and say a prayer of gratitude for her magnificence.

Nick was a young teen when I first met him. I was a tutor in the Indian Education program at the high school. He would come to the room, always a big, happy smile and carrying a turtle back pack. It was so cool; he really pulled that look off. It set him apart. Nick was a nice kid. Not a regular student in need of tutoring, he was mostly in need of community. We always enjoyed seeing him when he came through and loved hearing the tales of his school day.

Nick grew into an adult, a husband and a father over the years. His children are beautiful. I see them at the community Pow Wow from year to year. I hope they are proud of their dad. He is an expert with the saw. He knows trees and shares helpful information. He showed me the gaping hole in the tree, the rot from within. He told me all the oak trees have this. Just like humans, they develop healthcare issues as they age. He showed the start of interior rot in a smaller branch as well. What a lesson. At least some creature will have a good home.

I left a large section of her main trunk as a monument to her. Part of it will act as a check dam and the other will extend beyond the creek banks. She is beautiful even in death. The rest of the material will be used for brush piles and fire wood. Her flesh will keep my nephew and his family warm next winter. Chiokoe uttesia Huya into Nick weweriam (Thank you relatives – Tree and Nick).

David bringing the big truck with his tools…just in case

After Nick left, David and I sprung into action building brush piles and stacking wood. Within one second of me stepping away, a bird landed on the pile to check it out for a new home. That made me happy. My work is worth something.

More Visitors

Life on the ranch is a joy I cannot adequately explain. I am the kind of girl that loves spiders, snakes and frogs. I like the smell of manure and don’t mind getting it on my boots. Not everyone is into this kind of life. For me, it is heaven. Here are some recent visitor to the house:

Check Dams Working

Nature gave me some help this year in building check dams. The photos below show one that nature built with wood that fell into the creek. Note the sediment upstream has accrued and is nearly at the height of the land, and note that downstream is still carved deeply. Holding the sediment back achieves a number of goals, 1) to increase water quality, 2) make the access to the creek more usable by wildlife, 3) build back wetland type soil, and 4) slow water runoff to retain it for flora, fauna and groundwater recharge.

Sediment already growing grass as creek lightly meanders through

Wanderings

I left David weedeating around the monarch plots and went to check on the California milkweed sites. I love to walk, even on this cool, windy day, so I decided to walk further looking for more milkweed. One can only hope. While out, I found so many other beautiful things. We live on a remarkable planet. Love it. Cherish it. Protect it.

Habitat Not Just for Monarchs

David stands next to a brush pile built to support birds and other creatures

There is no doubt that David loves me. Any person that would sweat for hours doing the back-straining work of building brush piles for their wife’s habitat project is running on more than calories. It has got to be love. Last weekend, David and I spent the morning hours of each day building brush piles. We work on habitat for more than just monarchs. Brush piles make a great home for birds, small mammals and other living things. Wildlife need all the help they can get in the changing world humans have made for them.

There are many resources online that can teach you how to build them and discuss in greater detail the benefits. Here is what we did:

Find a spot near a riparian area and not in the middle of a field. For the “efficient” among us, the spot will be close to a plethora of downed branches.

I will be adding some game cameras to see who moves into these structures. Even though David and I both tired quickly, we feel so grateful for the ability to help the wildlife that live with us. Each pile takes two and a half hours with a 10 minute water break to build. It is good to do this work now with the temperatures so cool. Thanks also again to our neighbors Ric and Kim who allow us use of their fully electric Polaris, which made the work much easier. We are mindful of native bees that could live in the downed wood. We tried to look for what could be bee holes and not cover them up. Generally they should be ok in the brush pile. Piles are meant to have many openings and not be compact.

Native Bees Still Need Time to Emerge

I am learning a great deal in my Pollinator Stewardship Certification program – particularly about bees. This is an area where I had many deficiencies in knowledge. Because of the cool temperatures, native bees are still developing in their cavities where they were laid last fall. It is important to delay winter clean up, like leaf raking, downed tree removal and pruning dried stems from perennials. I came across this fantastic infographic posted by my friend Ray on social media (with thanks to the creators from the Kanatsiohareke Mohawk Community):

Did you know that 30% of native bees nest in stems, leaf litter, downed branches and other above ground cavities? The other 70% nest below ground either in their own holes or in vacant gopher holes. Most are solitary nesters – in other words, no colony. The exception are bumble bees which live in below ground cavities in very small colonies. They are my favorites because they are so cute, fuzzy and colorful. You can learn more information about bumble bees from the Pollinator Partnership. Most native bees do not live long, especially the males. Females have more time so they can nectar, build their nest, create a large pollen ball and lay their eggs on it. The pollen ball is to give the growing bee baby enough food to fully develop before it emerges. There are 4,000 species of native bees. Check out this handy identification guide and see who is living in your yard, then you can see what you can do to make their environment even better for them to succeed.

Storms Remove Sediment and Plants

The high and fast water flow has deepened water channels and widened creek beds. This has exposed much rock and may have taken many of the plants I painstakingly planted over the years in the several sections of Spring Creek. All I can hope is that they are able to get a foothold down stream and establish new life there.

Branches pushed together down stream creating check dams and sandbars

California Milkweed Continues to Emerge

We are up to seven individuals now! Hoping to break 30 this year as I carefully monitor, graze around and spread seed each year.

Tending to Xerces Plant Plots

Remarkably, 100% of the Xerces plants I planted last November and December are doing extremely well. This past week I have been carefully trimming the grass around each plant to give them a chance at some sunlight and growth. Ok, don’t think I am crazy, but I am cutting the grass with scissors. It allows for greater precision and eliminates the chance I will cut into my plants accidentally in the thicket of grass. The grass grew rapidly as soon as we had a few days of sun and increased temperature obscuring some of the plants. I am carefully trimming the grass instead of pulling it to give any cavity nesting native bees a chance to emerge. This year was cold and cold longer into spring than other years. Like the milkweed, native bees need the soil temps and air to be warmer before they emerge.