News from High Ground Organics

Summer Solstice Restoration Event

SATURDAY June 21, 2008 4pm - 6pm Celebrate Summer Solstice by caretaking our newly planted hillside of native grasses, sedges and rushes. We will work from 4-6pm in the evening followed by a potluck dinner. Note that this will be an evening work party so that we can enjoy the bloom of the California Soap Plant which only opens up in the soft light of the evening. We may also be graced by barn owls and bats as the darkness of evening falls.

Give Laura Kummerer a call at 831-761-8694 for directions out to the farm in Watsonville and for more information. For other ongoing events, see the column on the left-hand side.

Destruction, Rebirth and Renewal

Reflections on our Second Season of Grassland Restoration at High Ground Organics

by Laura Kummerer

Last week as I witnessed the powerful fire raging in the Santa Cruz Mountains, I began to reflect on the phenomena of destruction and renewal. As an ecologist I think of fire as integral to the rebirth and diversity of the landscape. It clears out the old and creates space for the new. But being human I dread the loss incurred by such rampant change; the loss of home, the loss of the familiar.

In our work to restore the damaged grassland on the Conservation Easement of High Ground Organics Farm to a thriving ecosystem, we are working with a force of destruction akin to fire. We are in our second season of re-introducing the disturbance of grazing back to this grassland. Our goal is to use thoughtfully timed livestock grazing and replanting to transform the weed tangled hillside to its historic vibrant diversity of bunch grasses, wildflowers and a myriad of birds and insects that evolved with this endangered ecosystem.

Historically California grasslands were healthy and diverse only in the presence of fire and/or grazing. The plants of the grassland community evolved mechanisms such as fire retardant seeds and protected plant organs to endure cyclical destruction and even thrive in its presence. About 12,000 years ago the native people of California recognized the essential role of fire in rejuvenating grassland ecosystems. They set fire to grasslands on almost a yearly basis. Grazing as well has a long history in California grasslands dating back to millions of years ago when Mastodon and Bison roamed California, to more recent times when large herds of Pronghorn Antelope, Tule Elk and Grizzly Bear lived off the grasses to the present herds of domesticated livestock.

It was these forces of destruction that deposited essential nutrients back in to the soil and cleared away the decayed vegetation of previous years’ plant growth, removing the thick blanket of decayed material that often smothers out seedlings trying to germinate. In the absence of fire and grazing, this blanket of thatch, as it is called, has grown up so thick that the rainbow of approximately 250 species of wildflowers that used to paint the California coastal grasslands with color in early spring are rarely seen anymore. Some of these species have been lost forever, but some species like the lupines and clovers of the pea family with thick protective seed coats still remain dormant in the soil just waiting for the removal of the thick blanket so they can bloom once again.

As I rotate the small herd of goats, visiting from Mariquita farm, through the grassland paddocks, I try to mimic the cyclical nature of the historic free roaming grazers. Last season as I witnessed the beautiful native California Oat grass nibbled down to the height of a pancake by the goats, I struggled to have faith that the destruction created by grazing would ultimately rejuvenate this landscape. It was my human tendency is to put protective fences around every native bunch grass clump, tender wildflower and blanket of native morning glories. I had to remind myself that many vulnerable wildflowers will only bloom in the bare soil left by grazing and that the deep rooted bunch grasses have endured endless cycles of destruction in their 200 year life span. I still am working to surrender to the forces of destruction. At the same time I am learning to make sure that I don’t hit native species at the time of their life cycle when they are most vulnerable. But even with doubts, I continue on. When I step back, I can see that in just two seasons this grassland has moved from a hillside of 6 foot tall weeds to a neatly clipped hillside of grass. In two more seasons I hope to see a myriad of native wildflowers and bunch grasses where the invasive Poison Hemlock and Wild Radish once stood.

This spring small glimmers of affirmation that rebirth follows destruction have been found across the grassland. The California Oat grasses, that looked so bedraggled after the first round of grazing, woke up robustly after this year’s winter rain and now cover the grassland in dense mounds. Although their size is reduced from their ungrazed counterparts, they are in denser clumps because whole meshes of seedlings were able to germinate. A small lupine bloomed its purple brilliance in an area that had been hit hardest by the goats last year. Although lupines are a relatively common plant, there have not been any lupines recorded on this property since we began observing it five years ago. Lupine seeds can live for 50 years in the soil just waiting for the right conditions to germinate. It is a treat to see that conditions were right this year for this beautiful flower. A handful of annual tarweed species are appearing all across the grassland. The sighting of these miniature sunflowers brings me great hope because they require the same conditions of bare soil and diminished annual grass competition for survival as their relative, the endangered Santa Cruz Tarplant that struggles to hold its ground on the property. The native morning glory is more prolific than ever, winding through the grassland in a great mass of fuzzy leaves. And the wondrously cheery blooms of the California Sun cups brightened up the grassland with a density of flowers that I have not witnessed before. There has also been a shift in the bird species spending time on the grassland. This winter the grassland was covered with a community of Western Meadowlarks that had not been able to forage here in previous years due to the height of the weeds. Another set of grassland dependent birds, Western Kingbirds, have been foraging for insects all spring. And although a Burrowing Owl did not nest out on the grassland as I had hoped this winter, more and more ground squirrel burrows are popping up. This gives me hope that soon these shy owls will find a safe place to nest in Watsonville once again.

These changes on the grassland seem small, but they indicate that damaged land can heal especially in conjunction with the re-planting, re-seeding and weeding we are doing out here. They also remind me of the importance of surrendering to the forces of destruction and rebirth. As my favorite poet, Mary Oliver, so beautifully articulates “…And therefore, let the immeasurable come. Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine. Let the wind turn in the trees, and the mystery hidden in dirt swing through the air…”I hope to be less timid about the forces of destruction in the years to come so I can be taken in to the “mystery hidden in dirt”. I hope you can come to visit the grassland and see for yourselves the vibrant life that pulses on the land and the vibrant life that is yet to be born hidden beneath the soil.

Late Spring at HGO

(May 2008) The grassland is drying out really fast this year due to the lack of rain, so it has been challenging to get the goats to eat down the weeds before they set seed. But it has been rewarding to see that the native perennial grasses are thriving in this dry weather since their roots are deeply planted in the ground, closer to moisture than the short rooted invasive weeds.

This month has been busy filled with weeding, watering, monitoring and moving the goats on a weekly basis. We just finished the construction of a shade structure to house the native plants that we are growing up to be planted out this coming winter. The plants we planted last winter all look lush and beautiful, and the seed meadow we planted last year is ripe with Purple Needle Grass seed that will be harvested soon.

Our most recent success story is that an annual lupine is blooming on the grassland. It is the first lupine we have seen since the grazing began. Lupine seeds can live up to possibly 50 years in the soil, so it is a treat to think that this little plant may have sprouted up from a seed that was here in the 1950's just waiting for the right conditions to flower.

Spring Has Sprung!!!

(March 2008) The grassland is bedecked in a bounty of green. The goats are content with the abundance of weeds to munch on. The 6,000 plants and seed we planted were well watered in during the January and February storms and our bursting with life after these two weeks of sun.

During the month of February I have been nursing my broken ankle back to health and using this time to enter in the loads of vegetation monitoring data we have gathered during the two year span of this project. I hope to have all of the data presented in a user friendly format by the end of March so that we can all see quantitatively how the restoration project is going and make creative changes to address some of the challenges. In the next month I will be putting together a site visit with our Technical Advisory Committee (a group of local land managers, scientists and rangeland managers who have been sharing their expertise on our project). I’ll advise you about the date as soon as possible.

SEEING A GRASSLAND WITH NEW EYES

By: Laura Kummerer, Grassland Restorationist at High Ground Organics

(Fall 2007) As the grassland at High Ground Organics Farm hunkers down in to the brown and gold colors of summer dormancy, I begin to reflect on our first year of restoring this grassland through rotational grazing. From a distance the impact of the rotation of cows and goats across this land is striking. The tangle of six foot tall radish, thistle and invasive grasses that engulfed the grassland last year have now been transformed in to a field of neatly clipped weeds interspersed with an abundant spray of California Poppies and the fuzzy leaves of the native Hill Morning Glory. The weeds still dominate the landscape, however, and the bunch grasses and wildflowers are only very slowly showing signs of rebirth. But as I peer out at the grassland with hope, I am reminded how deep change on a landscape is one of subtle shifts. In order to observe this change on a yearly basis, we are required to train our eyes to look very closely to catch the shifts amidst the vastness.

I realize that grasslands themselves are entities that most of us only see from a distance. We are struck by the grassy hills around us bejeweled in green during the lush rains of the winter and feel the dryness of our summers reflected in their brown hues late in the season. But if we step in to this backdrop of grass, we would see that grasslands, like anything else in life looked at closely, are composed of an infinite intricacy of interactions between roots and bacteria and soil and insects and an incredible myriad of plant and animal species. I would like to introduce you to a few of the grasses and wildflowers that I have watched change this year so you can "see" the intricacies of our grassland and take stock with me in the subtle shifts that are occurring in the restoring of a landscape.

One of my favorite grasses growing in the grassland is the unassuming California Oat Grass (Danthonia californica). The best way to get to know this beautiful bunch grass is with your bare feet. Your toes can feel the tenacious substance in these grassy mounds that have persevered for possibly a thousand years. These grasses are lush and beautiful in mid spring, but my favorite part of them are the cute little tufts of hair that they have on their leaf blades. It is in early summer during seed production that these plants reveal their true uniqueness. Not only do they create seed at the top of their flower heads like all other grasses, but they hide a neat line of seed away in a tight roll between their leaf and their stem. These hidden away seeds may be left unnoticed by the myriads of animals that love the sweet taste of the oat grass. It may very well be this hidden away seed that has allowed this plant to keep birthing itself against all odds in the small spaces of soil cleared away by the grazers this year.

Another plant that resides in the grassland and was in abundance this year in response to the grazing is a flower in the Evening Primrose family called Sun Cups (Camissonia ovata). It is a joy to walk out on the grassland when the sun cups are in full bloom. They create puddles of yellow all around that look as if the sun is glowing on the earth instead of up in the sky. This plant grows low to the ground and is one of the first flowers to peak out in the early spring. When it emerges during the winter rains it first sends out large leaves tinged with magenta to smash down the annual grasses near by, giving it the sunlight it needs to produce its cheery yellow flowers. These abundant leaves are not only integral to the plant but were gathered extensively by the Ohlone Indians of the coast for salad greens. In late summer the flowers and leaves of this plant dry up and fade away so it takes a practiced eye to find the seed the sun cups form deep down almost below the soil level. Although it is always hard for me to find the seed, I rest assured knowing that the native ants who play the primary role dispersing sun cup seed are more astute than I in locating this bounty.

The final and most special symbol of change for me this year out on the grassland was the first appearance of a bulb plant in the Lily family called Brodiaea elegans. In mid July it caught me by surprise poking its vibrant blue flower above ground in an area that had been recently grazed. The plant does not have a common name in our language but had a myriad of names given to it by indigenous groups throughout California. The Yokut Indians called one special gathering place of these bulbs "kawachu" meaning "place of the grassnuts". It is reported that these gathering areas grew as thick as grasses, creating the appearance of blue lakes covering the grassland. The bulb of this plant was a staple protein source for California Indian Tribes. Maybe the reason we don't have a common name for this regal plant in our language is that this bulb along with a whole line of other bulb species were the first to disappear in response to the plowing and other intensive land management practices introduced by the Europeans in the 1700's. The bulbs that still remain today are now sparsely scattered throughout grasslands and often are choked out by weeds.

The small changes in the grassland reflected in the revitalization of these few plants make me look forward to what will happen in the upcoming years in response to our rotational grazing and careful management of this land. Hopefully, our eyes will be able to witness stands of bunch grasses, lupines, clovers, bulbs and tarweeds gain a stronger foothold, slowly adding to the complexity of a healthy and vibrant grassland ecosystem.

Come Out and See The Grassland For Yourself…

You can join us on monthly restoration parties or come lend a hand on Tuesdays and Fridays during the week!

More information is listed in the box (at left) or contact Laura Kummerer (831)761-8694 for more details about grassland restoration opportunities.

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