My Summer Travels in Washington State (Video)

This past summer was my first field season working for the Washington Natural Heritage Program. Much of the summer was devoted to traversing the State in order to gain familiarity with the diversity of ecosystems found in Washington, although most of my time was spent east of the Cascades. This video is a collection of images from some of the places I was able to visit.  

(Photo credit at the 6:53 mark is J. Clements; 

National Natural Landmark Photo Contest winner)

What's in a Name?

A large portion of my professional work entails the refinement and application of classification systems to the ecological and vegetation communities found in Washington. The purpose is to compile a list of targets to help guide and prioritize conservation efforts. I mostly use the U.S. National Vegetation Classification, a hierarchical system used throughout the United States and, increasingly, other parts of North and South America. This tool helps us make sense of the patterns we see on the landscape. However, categorization can seem, and often is, trivial. Because of the diversity and complexity of the natural world, life has a natural tendency to pick apart its surroundings and place the pieces into more easily understood or useful boxes. These boxes help illuminate a path toward understanding, whether esoteric or utilitarian. However, the categories we use are constrained by time and space, reminding us that our classification schemes, while useful and maybe even necessary, are subjective lines drawn around a continuous, dynamic, and diverse world.

Ponderosa pine mixing with bitterbrush

Linnaeus gave us a classification scheme that has worked pretty darn well for plant and animals species. Ecologist have not been so lucky. First, there is the complication that ecologists are attempting to distill the complex patterns of interactions among multiple species along with their interaction with soils, climate, geology, topography, etc. into simpler, meaningful units. Plenty of ecological classification schemes have been developed in the past 150 years (or less) but no standardized, globally accepted system, similar to Linnaeus's binomial system, has emerged. Regional or local terms emerge from varying classification objectives, local ecological expression, and academic philosophy. Depending on one's specialty, philosophy, or particular interest, ecologists end up drawing lines around the natural world in slightly (or conspicuously) different ways. Although these differences in vocabulary may seem trivial, they often prove to be a reflection of a culture's underlying philosophy of, and relationship with, the land. In my line of work, we strive to divide Nature only to understand, honor, and to interact with the land in a sustainable way.

Herbaceous bald

We tend to think of Nature as a mechanistic rather than an organic system. It is just much easier to process such complexity if you can visualize its parts. But, as soon as you start organizing, inevitable contradictions arise as our terms don't always reflect Nature and our models are not as accurate as we'd like them to be. Why? Because, Nature embodies an element of holism which we are unable to account for, either because we fail to see it or we refuse to accept its legitimacy. We humans often find a need to first dissect in order to synthesize information. Such deductive reasoning has allowed our species to survive natural selection rather successfully. On the other hand, stepping back and absorbing the continuous, complex, and beautifully diverse world without names, lines, or boxes, allows one to experience the natural world as it IS rather than what we perceive it to be. Such moments seem to provide the most satisfying form of clarity.

Subalpine meadow giving way to forest

(thus, blurring the line between the two)

Hummocks, Hollows, Pools, and Lawns...The Aapa Mire

Aapa mire is a Finnish term for a large, complex, cold-climate wetland. More specifically, the aapa mire is a fen--or peatland which is supported by groundwater flow--with a very diverse array of internal features. Aapa mires typically have a mosaic of hummock-hollow topography, pools, and sedge (Carex spp.) lawns scattered about. Most aapa mires have some portion which is sloping, even if ever so slightly. This forces water to flow through the

Large fen with aapa mire features in Colorado

mire, as if a river. This creates surface patterning such as hummocks and hollows. Often, the distribution of hummocks and hollows is not random. They occur as parallel features of pool and ridges which are also known as flarks and strings. Sometimes the hummocks express themselves in a more random fashion. Some suspect that certain types of vegetation (mosses or Carex) or freeze-thaw processes may be a driver behind the development of these randomly occurring hummocks. The pools are thought to form when the water table raises above the surface of the mire long enough to kill the underlying vegetation. This creates a situation where peat is no longer being accumulated and, over time, essentially results in a 'hole' where pools occur. I have observed pools in places where concentrated, upwelling groundwater occurs...the constant flow of water restricting who can successfully plant their feet. Lawns are flat, monotypic swaths of sedge (Carex) with little or no hummocks. Each of these features result in very different floristic expressions.

"Flark and string" like patterns in a basin fen (northern Colorado)

When we pull our observations back to a larger scale, we notice something very conspicuous: all of these features are contained within a large, well-defined area of wet ground. The aapa mire is the macro-scale name for all these things--hummocks, hollows, pools, and lawns (or the plant communities associated with those features)--when they occur together.

Aapa mires, as conceived in Finland, are a common wetland type in the boreal zone. Many occur in Canada; very few in the U.S. Our fens, or mires, simply are not large enough to express all of the features found in Finnish aapa mires. I have seen elements of aapa mires in some large fens in Colorado and am looking forward to searching for them here in Washington. Rarely have I seen hummocks, hollows, pools, and lawns in a single fen but these are, individually, common features of Southern Rocky Mountain mires. However, there is a particular place located in South Park, Colorado which contains them all. I'll be sharing my thoughts on this place in a future post.

Many aapa mire features visible here

One other small fact about the aapa mire (or fen, bog, or any term you want to apply to a peat accumulating wetland), it is, to borrow a term made famous here in the Pacific Northwest, an "old growth" wetland. Most aapa mires started forming at the end of the last ice age. They are old--very old. They harbor unique plant and animals, many of which are hanging on from an era long ago. As such they deserve an extra watchful eye focused on their proper care and protection. Once gone, we can't replace them--at least not in our lifetime.

The Pineapple Express

There is a misconception about our weather here in the Pacific Northwest. Yes, during our winter, lots of moisture falls from the sky. But, it doesn't just fall as 'rain'. Some days it drizzles. Other days are coated by a fine, persistent mist. Many days are soaked with mizzle (not quite mist, not quite drizzle). Some days are, indeed, rain. That stereotypical, monotonous pit-pat of water drops. Some days it mists, drizzles, mizzles, and rains in the same day. If we are lucky, there are sun-breaks in between. But, the granddaddy of our soggy weather is the Pineapple Express. A warm, moisture laden storm pushed up from Hawaii...

This winter's first Pineapple Express continues to unleash more rain than I have ever seen. Not quite a downpour rather a steady, hard continuous hosing. Continuous is bracketed not by hours but by days. They say this Hawaiian gift may deliver ~5 inches of rain here in the lowlands and 10-20 inches (of rain) in the mountains.