Naturalist's Corner - Weed ... or Not?

I am happy to welcome back my Minnesota Master Naturalist colleague, Steve Dietz. Steve is an amazing bird watcher and a very active and enthusiastic member/leader of the Frontenac State Park Association. As an avid birder, when not enjoying the dawn chorus, he is working to enhance FSP's bird-friendly habitat and resources. I loved reading this thoughtful article on how we think about weeds and how, what at first seems to be an invasive, is actually a native species that plays an integral part in out natural ecosystems. You'll see the humble field thistle with different eyes after you read his piece.

Notes from the Field: A Weed is a Weed is a Weed?

by Steve Dietz     

Reprinted by permisssion from the Frontenac State Park Association newsletter, August 2026

Many of us feel that “weed” is an immutable category that must be extirpated at all costs, including killing off beneficial flora and fauna. But don’t worry, we are not diving into lawn wars this month. It’s useful, however, to understand weeds as a cultural construct. Most programs and experts, when pressed, define weeds along these lines: a wild plant growing where it is not wanted, especially among crops or garden plants. On a tour of He Mni Can, Nicky Buck, a member of the Prairie Island Indian Community, referred to so-called invasive species as “misplaced relatives.”

Don’t get me wrong. A weed can cause severe damage to agricultural output, hence the Minnesota Department of Agriculture’s noxious weed list. And very few of us really love creeping charlie inundating our cultivated gardens. But in the wild environment of Frontenac State Park, what is a wild plant growing where it is not wanted — besides buckthorn and garlic mustard and wild parsnip? Of course, the argument that these should be at least controlled if not eradicated is based on the fact that they aggressively take territory and prevent the growth of native flora that have evolved over millennia to support a host of dependent native insects, birds and mammals.

Left: A monarch butterfly nectaring on a field thistle, Frontenac State Park, August 30, 2021.
Photo bysls42, iNaturalist.
Right: An American Goldfinch eating thistle seed. Photo by Steve Dietz

Often in the prairie, especially in August, I come across a butterfly feeding on a thistle in purple bloom. Beautiful! Somewhere inside me, however, is some unformed concern about a weed in the prairie. Did I not wipe my boots and accidentally bring it to the trail on a past walk? Perhaps. I do not know where this association of thistles with weeds first arose, but in this case the concern is specious. Or should that be species-ist?

The field or pasture thistle (Cirsium discolor) is a native plant that is a prodigious food source. The most important pollinators of the flowers are bumblebees, digger bees, leaf-cutting bees and butterflies. Among the butterflies are such floral visitors as Monarchs, Fritillaries, Painted Ladies, Swallowtails and Sulfurs. Sphinx moths and bee flies also visit the flowers for nectar. The caterpillars of the Painted Lady butterfly and several moths feed on the foliage., Other insect feeders include the Thistle Tortoise Beetle, the Bumble Flower Beetle, the Thistle and Artichoke aphids, the Northern Grasshopper and many others. The American Goldfinch eats the seeds and uses the tufts of hair as lining material in its nests, and the Ruby-throated Hummingbird has been known to visit thistle flowers for nectar.

The USDA also cites uses of the field thistle by Native Americans, who made a paste of the roots for treating wounds, boils and piles, and used an infusion of the root for treating stomachaches. Some also used the thistle down (or pappus) from the seeds to fletch the tail end of blow darts.

The field thistle can be confused with the bull thistle (Cirsium vulgare), an aggressive non-native species. The way to tell them apart visually is that bull thistle has leaves that are green on both sides. Field thistle leaves have white underneath and spineless stems. The former blooms in spring; the latter blooms summer into fall.

Interestingly, while both native and non-native thistles provide useful eco services, the aggressive territoriality of non-native species puts them in the “growing where not wanted” category, although probably not enough to need additional control measures at the park.

“Maintaining” a natural environment is a complex and sometimes contradictory endeavor, and the answers are not always obvious. Question assumptions. Become informed about the life cycle and eco and cultural services of a plant. Consider what is acceptable and practical in your unique circumstances. Be humble.

Naturalist's Corner - Climate Change

If you are a person who loves getting into nature -whether a hiker, gardener, kayaker, canoeist, biker, hunter, golfer, boater or other outdoor enthusiast - it isn't  a surprise to note how our climate is changing despite those who deny the exisitence of this threat to our spaceship earth. So it was with great interest that I read our guest naturalist Melissa Hermsen's article in the summer issue of the Rattlesnake Buzz newsletter. The Buzz is a quarterly publication of the Allamakeee County (IA) Conservation Board and Driftless Area Education and Visitor's Center based in Lansing IA.

Here is a bit about Melissa: "Melissa Hermsen is the Assistant Naturalist/Office Manager for the Allamakee County Conservation Board, based in Lansing, Iowa. She is originally from Dubuque, and worked there as a seasonal naturalist in previous summers as she studied Environmental Science at the University of Iowa. Melissa loves everything Driftless, especially relating to the area's unique geology, and is also passionate about sustainability, biology, and education."

You can read more about what the Conservation board and visitor Center offers at their website. This article is reprinted with permission.

Climate Change at Home

by Melissa Hermsen

Climate Central IA Trends

On average, Winter and fall have warmed up 

more thanspring and summer in Iowa.

Climate change is happening. It’s happening now, it’s affecting us, and we (humans) caused it. According to the 2024 Yale Climate Opinion survey, 71% of Iowans believe that climate change will harm future generations, but only 37% think it will harm them personally. While it’s true that Iowa has no melting glaciers or rising sea levels, climate change has already started affecting our temperatures and precipitation patterns, making life more difficult for humans and wildlife alike.

Heating Up
Iowa is, on average, about 1.5 degrees warmer today than it was in the 1980’s. The most dramatic change has been between December-February, 4 degrees warmer on average. While these numbers hardly seem significant, the Earth has only warmed about 10-12 degrees since the height of the last ice age. Warmer winters may feel more comfortable for humans, but they are also more welcoming to weeds, diseases, and pests.

Moisture Madness
Heavy precipitation in Iowa has already been increasing, primarily in winter and spring, and will continue to increase flooding events. Leafy plant cover intercepts rain, slowing it down before it hits the earth, and roots anchor soil in place. Heavier rains earlier in the year, when plants are small and trees are just starting to leaf out, means more soil lost to erosion and more fertilizer leached from fields. This affects all Iowans, as runoff decreases water quality in streams for humans and wildlife. When rain quickly runs off the land, it is not able to absorb deeply into the soil or recharge aquifers.

Dying From Drought
Spring may bring heavier rains, but droughts are also expected to worsen in the midsummer heat. With more extreme summer temperatures on the way, livestock and humans will experience dangerous heat stress. Drought conditions also increase the occurrence and severity of wildfires. The fire itself isn’t the only concern---smoke traveling from hundreds of miles away can worsen Iowa air quality and pose dangers to children and the elderly.

Make A Difference
There is one thing that we absolutely must do more of: talk about climate change. Talk about weather patterns you’re noticing, how things have changed over the years, worries you have for the future, and steps you’d like to take to make things better. There are also number of changes we can make in our own lives to reduce our energy use, both small and large. These habits are good for us, too---they save us money on fuel and electricity. Personal lifestyle changes alone cannot fix the climate crisis, but they help prepare us for a lower-energy future.

For the record, I’m far from perfect. Change is difficult, and sometimes there are upfront costs before the savings hit. However, this summer I’m trying out a new adventure: biking to work. I recently got a new (used) bicycle and went on my first ride in about eight years!

Naturalist's Corner - Spring Teaser Weather

I was delighted by this article in the Spring 2026 issue of The Rattlesnake Buzz, a quarterly newsletter from Iowa’s Allamakee County Conservation Board (ACCB).  Ross Geerdes, the Director of the ACCB and the Driftless Area Education and Visitor's Center, wrote a great piece about how spring's fluctuatioin temperatures are both a challenge and a promise to both naturalists and those who love the outdoors. 

By way of introduction of himself, the ACCB and the Center, Ross writes: "I have been with the Allamakee County Conservation Board sine 2013. I was the first full time naturalist with the county. The Allamakee County Conservation Board's education program began offering in-school programs in the fall of 2013 that included live animals, hands on activities, and environmental education programs designed to fit the curriculum and lessons the teachers were already offering to the students. We also began increasing public programming with programs such as kayaking, Fullmoon Snowshoeing, prairie hikes and The Summer Naturalist Speaker series. 

In 2017, with the opening of the Driftless Area Education and Visitors Center we continued to work with schools in Allamakee County to offer in school programs while expanding our offerings to schools in Minnesota, Wisconsin, and Iowa to offer field trips to the Driftless Area Education and Visitors Center. In 2023, after the retirement of longtime Director Jim Janett, I was promoted to the Director role. We currently oversee the managment of 28 parks, boat landings, and public areas in Allamakee County. Our parks offer users access to the Upper Iowa River, the Yellow River, the Mississippi River Fish and Wildlife Refuge, as well as many coldwater trout streams offering year round outdoor activities for residents of Allamakee County and the midwest." You can read more about what the Conservation board and visitor Center offers at their website. This article is reprinted with permission.

Spring Teaser Weather: When Winter Isn’t Quite Done With Us 

by Ross Geerdes

View of Village Creek from the Driftless Center

As I sit down to write this article, the staff from the ACCB is finishing cleaning up from a late winter storm that left the Driftless Area with nearly a foot of snow. This massive snow dump comes in the wake of a February warm spell that saw temperatures reaching 60 degrees for highs and the mid 40s for the overnight low. While warm spells are not uncommon for many of us, they are just a tease; so before you reorganize your closet, remember that spring teasers are famous for keeping us guessing.

A “spring teaser” is a brief stretch of unseasonably warm, pleasant weather that pops up in late winter or very early spring. Temperatures may climb 15–25 degrees above average for a few days, causing the snow to melt away. Fishermen begin to exchange their ice augers for their trolling motors, gardeners may start their indoor seeds and sow their early season seeds like garlic and onions. Even people who don’t maintain a life list of birds begin to notice the arrival of robins and bluebirds while the grass looks just a shade greener. Then as suddenly as the warm air appears the cold air returns, snow blankets the ground, and we rush to protect our newly emerging plants.

Spring teasers are emotionally powerful and the psychological shift is real: longer daylight, warmer temperatures, and birdsong all signal change. Not only is the sun powerful to humans but if you listen to a cardinal sing or see a turkey they seem to have a bit more pep in their step! Perhaps they are saying “We made it!” After months of gray skies and long underwear, even two sunny days can lift moods and spark optimism. Driftless Area residents begin to don shorts, even if it is only 50 degrees, campers open the window to air out the mothballs, runners swap treadmills for trails, and local ice cream shops quietly reopen their windows.

While these warm stretches feel wonderful, they can create a few challenges. Believe it or not, wintertime provides conservation agencies with a chance to do projects that may not be possible at other times of the year.

When the days begin to warm and the sap begins to flow in trees, you may look forward to tapping your sugar maple trees; however, the flowing sap puts an end to timber stand improvement. TSI, as we call it, is the selective cutting of trees to inhibit the growth of other trees. Every fall and winter staff walks our woods with an Iowa DNR Forester and we mark trees to be cut. We do this to help the growth of higher-priority trees, oftentimes oak or walnut.

We also manage some of our forests for white pine trees. White pines are native to Iowa, but most of the white pines around Iowa have been planted 20, 30, or maybe 40 years ago. In areas like Waterville Pines Park and Waterville Farm 55 we have naturally occurring white pine trees that date back prior to Iowa’s statehood. By removing other trees from around these native white pines we can ensure that they are healthy and vigorous to give off seed to provide for the growth of new native strain white pine trees.

Spring’s back-and-forth pattern is part of the seasonal transition. Atmospheric patterns are still battling between lingering winter air masses and strengthening spring warmth. According to the Iowa State Extension office, the annual last frost for Allamakee County is somewhere around April 26 —this means you may not need to wear your long underwear anymore, but the mornings are still frosty. The sun will quickly warm things up after it rises, but the afternoons cool just as quickly when the sun drops below the bluff top. During these times hypothermia is a real concern and dressing in clothing made of materials like wool can keep you warm even if you do work up a sweat. We like to joke about forecasters being wrong all the time, but in the springtime it is important to check forecasts frequently, especially if you’re traveling or have outdoor plans like hiking or fishing.

Spring teasers can feel like nature is playing tricks on us, though they do serve as a promise—spring is coming and SOON. Each warm spell tends to last a little longer. Each cold snap becomes a little less intense. Now it won’t be long before the mushrooms will be popping and the turkeys will be done gobbling!

Naturalist's Corner - Driftless Bluff Faces

I am so pleased to share this post from Linda Haugen. She and her husband Dennis own Iowisota, a nature-themed retreat and education center located in the Driftless area of Northeast Iowa. Both retired from the U.S. Forest Service, their family has stewarded the almost 200 acres of forested bluffs for over 50 years. They host retreats as well as programs like making wild-crafted pottery, soaps, cordials as well as hands-on foraging workshops, tree identification saunters, hikes and more. They warmly welcome everyone to the retreat center and are fonts of information. To find out more, please stop be their website.
In this beautifully written post, reprinted with permission from their January 31, 2026 Iowisota blog, Linda shares information and muses on the towering Driftless bluff faces and what they mean to us - and to the flora and fauna that inhabit them.

The weathered faces reveal lifetimes of adversity. They aren’t human faces; they are the rocky crags that look out over the Mississippi River. Each face is unique and beautiful, full of character. Their expressions change throughout the seasons and even throughout the day, with the nuances of snow and cloud, shadow and sun.

The rocky faces of the bluffs reveal layers of limestone and dolomite of the ancient Paleozoic Plateau. This plateau of sedimentary rock was not scraped or buried by the last 3 to 4 glaciers, but it also wasn’t untouched. Meltwater floods cut valleys and reorganized the landscape, moving massive quantities of rocks and soil. Meanwhile, the rocky escarpments weathered to the faces that still watch over the now quieter rivers and valleys.

These faces have been present for a very long time, and they hide secrets. Some faces have rock overhangs and nooks forming protected pockets. Other people lived on this land for hundreds of years between when the last glacier left and when Europeans arrived. I wonder what I could find in those hidden cavities or shelters. Petroglyphs? Tools left behind? Other artifacts? I’m sure someone more athletic and braver than I would have long since explored the farthest reaches and removed any treasures, so most likely I would only find a few animal bones and other debris. Still, I do wonder what secrets the faces hide.

The faces are a place of refuge. Deep crevices in the cliffs offer protection from hot and cold extremes, and when fires swept up the hillside prairies, the rock faces escape the flames. The term “refugium” literally means a place that supports an isolated or relict population of an organism. Protected spaces can serve as refugia, and you may find rare and unique plants and animals on these sensitive sites. Words like karst topography, algific talus slopes, Pleistocene snail, and northern wild monkshood come up in conversation about refugia and the Driftless Area, but I don’t know if my local faces are home to any rare plants and animals.

The faces harbor danger, in the form of steep cliffs, unstable rocks, and venomous snakes. Nature doesn’t install guardrails to protect the foolhardy, and the edges are not always stable. There may be a ledge to stop my fall down the steep cliff, or there may not be. So, I keep a safe distance from the edge. The lower slopes of the bluffs are littered with boulders that were once part of a face, until erosion and gravity prevailed and they came crashing down. Rocks may break free at any time, but landslides and rock falls from the faces are more common in Spring (following the freeze-thaw cycle) and after heavy rains. And then there are the rattlesnakes. They shelter in the cracks that extend deep into/under the cliffs and bask in the sunshine on ledges and rock shelves. In fact, they need the deep cracks and fractures that lead back into protected dens where they can overwinter; that’s why we have rattlesnakes here in the Driftless Area, but not in the rest of Iowa. The timber rattlesnakes aren’t usually aggressive, but they don’t really like getting cornered or stepped on. I don’t like to be surprised by them any more than they like to be surprised, so I tread with caution.
At Iowisota, we live between two faces. We call the steep, bold face on the front of the “South Bluff” Cedar Point, because of the ancient, gnarly red cedars (junipers) that have grown protected on the rock cliff for hundreds of years. I’ve never measured the height of the drop from the top of Cedar Point, but my guess is perhaps 75’. The face on the “North Bluff” is less abrupt; this bluff has a east-west oriented ridge above a south-facing hillside “goat” prairie that feathers into a series of short rocky ledges (with snake-harboring crevices) along the southeast face. The ridge above the goat prairie provides amazing unobstructed views over the Mississippi River valley to the south. The east-facing front face is mostly hidden by the trees below but is still a long enough drop that I wouldn’t care to go down that way.

I’m rather fond of our faces, even with all their dangers, and sometimes because of their dangers. Sometimes I look out over the view that they have watched for so long and reflect on the changes to the River and landscape. The Mississippi River was once uncontrolled and wild, the Upper Iowa River meandered alongside the Mississippi for several miles and joined in within view of the faces. Influencers of the landscape included fire, floods and beavers. The past 250 years have brought new influencers, including intense agriculture, logging, fire suppression, channelization, fertilizer and chemical pollution, introduction of invasive species, etc. It is sobering to contemplate what we have done, and perplexing to contemplate what we should do now. Ancient rocks, towering trees, and singing birds remind me that nature endures, even though it changes. 

Naturalist's Corner - Celebrating Nature

In this beautifully written ode to sense of place and our feelings surrounding nature, Jonathan Rigden calls to mind ways we can move from transitory sorrow to a deeper sense of celebration by embracing nature. Jon is a hero for the prairies and their restoration along with his many colleagues in The Friends of the Blufflands and The Prairie Enthusiasts, both groups he is active in. His dedicated passion for this work and his curiosity about the life and history of these remnants has led him to write deeply researched and quite amazing blog posts at the Friends of the Blufflands website. Jon kindly gave me permission to reprint his most recent and extraordinary December 22, 2025 post.

In 2026, Find Your Place and Celebrate

by Jonathan Rigden

Friends of the Blufflands blog

Sometimes thinking about the past and the natural world can be disheartening. When thoughts percolate about the state of nature in North America before European settlement with its old growth forests and vast prairies rich with wildlife and rivers that ran fast and clean, an intense feeling of distress can occur. These thoughts can become overwhelming, and even produce rage as we witness the decline of monarch butterflies, the steep drop in bird populations, bats fighting for survival, and our postage stamp prairies being engulfed by trees and brush. When we witness these changes occurring at a place we know and love, a feeling of profound sadness can emerge- the ache of solastalgia.

Solastalgia is a relatively new term that combines the concepts of solace and pain. It describes the distress felt when one's place of solace, or comfort, is threatened. A place where you seek peace, sometimes the place you call home, is disappearing. Those with a medical background are well-acquainted with words ending in -algia denoting pain, such as fibromyalgia, arthralgia, or neuralgia. Solastalgia conveys a longing mixed with suffering producing an intense melancholy about a treasured place that is fading away. A homesickness felt at home.

Nostalgia has a slightly different meaning. It comes from the Greek nostos or "homecoming" and again -algia, and can suggest a wistful or sentimental longing for a place, often associated with a sense of happiness or comfort. It can motivate someone to put in long hours to return to or preserve a cherished past while creating social bonds fostering connection and optimism. On the other hand, nostalgia can paint idealized pictures in our minds leading to despair and a longing for days of old that will never be with us again. It can create unrealistic, rosy images with feelings of regret which can paralyze us by focusing on going back rather than forward. Some refer to this as "nostalgic depression" or even "toxic nostalgia". The feeling of nostalgia is often called bittersweet for its combination of positive and negative emotions.

Topophilia is an abiding love for a place despite changes that are occurring. It is derived from the Greek "topo" meaning "place" and "philia" meaning "love" or having an emotional bond and affection for a specific place. Any location can inspire topophilia, but it is more common for those places that are unusual and disappearing. This feeling is often born from childhood experiences but can be captured at any age by immersing oneself deeply in a place. Like a remnant prairie.

 
For someone new on a prairie, topophilia can start by seeing a few plants that are among the first to emerge in the spring. 

Like pasqueflower,

hoary puccoon,

jeweled shooting star,

or bird's foot violet.

Think of these early risers as a string quartet introducing a full symphony to come- Dvořák's No 12, Op 96, "American" followed by Beethoven's Symphony No 9, "Ode to Joy". Stunning displays of life appearing subtly in the spring then exploding through the year from one movement to the next. A feast before the eyes. Then, for full immersion, close your eyes and be free from vision. Hear the birds chatter and the leaves on a bur oak talking to the wind. Feel the breeze in your hair while you pick up the invigorating scent of mountain mint or a whiff of vanilla coming from nearby lady's tresses buried in the grasses. Taste the lemon-sour flavor of a leaf or two of sorrel. Fall in love with the place. Drift into a dream where prairies are thriving across the landscape.

Then, as you dream, think of ecophilia, a combination where topophilia becomes the whole of Earth and biophilia the love of the entire tapestry of life. A way of thinking about and living in harmony with nature through a kinship that allows both humans and the natural world to thrive and become one.

In 2026, recognize that "algia" is important, but don't let it dominate- leave some room for "philia". Find your place and celebrate! At Friends of the Blufflands we have embraced prairie restoration as a big part of our celebration. Come join us and begin 2026 with enthusiastic topophilia for our prairies!

From near to far, Zoerb, Lookout and Vista Prairies
in December 2025 during a work day burning brush piles.

Images, unless noted - Jonathan Rigden

Naturalist's Corner - What's Cool? What's Hot?

You may be expecting a post on the trendiest hiking gear or maybe climate change...

...but instead I want to reflect on two recent curiosities of nature and our seasons that I encountered. It's also about the delight we can find in learning - and learning more - on our hikes and interactions with nature.

The Cool

Northern-facing algific talus limestone cliffs

I spent time recently in Decorah, exploring a loop trail in Phelp's Park, especially at the start of its Trollkor's Trail. As we began our hike, we immediately went past a series of high limestone cliffs with a profusion of broken rock at the bottom and many small crevices and holes. Hmmm, what was this? We soon came upon a kiosk, detailing the algific talus slopes that are quite common in northeast Iowa. 

Checking out the cold-air flow

Then, past the kiosk, we noted large swaths of bright delicate fern moss covering the hillside. While moss isn't unusual at this time of year, the absolute masses we were seeing were. On that first hike on a 39F day, we were puzzled by this proliferation. 

It took a second visit, later in the week in much warmer 70F weather, to put two and two together. We were within touching distance of the north-facing algific (cold producing) talus (loose rock) slopes venting cold air from the beginning of our hike! Cool!

A chilly 55F in 71F weather

On that second warmer weather hike, as we passed the first short broken cliffs and the subsequent mossy slopes, we were blasted with cold air coming out of those vents.  The verdant moss on the hillside surrounded and covered those blast holes which were emitting 55F air. I had to hop into the sun after lingering there while confirming the temp! Our first hike was in air so cold we never felt the cold-air outflow. On a warm day, it was noticeably colder as we passed.

Ferns covering a vent

Living in the Driftless area, I have often heard about these slopes but never experienced them myself. According to the WI DNR biodiversity page, these steep north and east facing slopes occur when water enters through cracks in the limestone, freezes and slowly melts during the summer. It produces an outflow of cold air - a microclimate that supports rare plant and animal life. In general, these slopes are protected and not widely publicized to preserve their fragile ice age ecology.

So it was with great delight that I experienced their frosty air on a warm November day. I can hardly wait to return in spring and summer to observe what rare plants, within touching distance from the trail, prosper on these IA slopes  

THE HOT
Like many of you, with our early December snows, I often take snow cover for granted. It's there for snow fun, right?  But there's something special underneath the snow - the subnivean zone. It's a layer under the snow that retains heat throughout the winter and allows life to continue. Hmm, heat in the outdoors!

What's under that snow?

Subnivean is a such a lovely word that rolls off the tongue - and such an important piece of our winter landscape. The Latin roots of this word (sub and nivis) simply mean "below snow." After reading a recent post on naturalist Emily's Stone's amazing blog Natural Connections from the Cable (WI) Natural History Museum about the subnivean zone, my curiosity was piqued.

Over the years, I have seen spiders and snowfleas atop the snow and small tunnels and faint trails as the snow melts - all evidence that something was happening under the snow I hiked. We've all also probably seen, in nature photos and documentaries, foxes and owls honing in on small rodents beneath the snow cover. This subnivean zone provides an important part of winter survival for living things, from, as Emily Stone writes, "mice to martens, bacteria, fungi, spiders, hibernating insects, frozen wood frogs, and more."

Subnivean trails revealed in melting snow

So how does it happen? As the first substantial snow falls, it piles up on rocks, fallen trees, and vegetation that act like umbrellas creating space below. The snow cover creates a kind of thermal blanket and insulates the space. Those open spaces make up the subnivean zone. The temperatures remain constant at about 32F even if the air above the snow is much colder. Water vapor that forms from the earth's residual heat freezes at the bottom of the snowpack to create a type of ceiling.

Image - Emily Stone
Used with permission

In the photo at left from her blog post, Emily Stone writes: "All winter long I will monitor the air temperature and the temperature of a thermometer I recently buried in the Subnivean Zone under the snow. In it’s first day of existence this winter, the Subnivean Zone did not drop below 33 degrees!"

No wonder there is abundant life in that warmer zone.

It was delightful to spend time over the past few weeks learning more about both natural phenomena. If you want to dive a little more deeply, please check out some of the resources below:

Resources

The Cool - Algific Talus Slopes

A Global Treasure

 - Erica Place. Iowa Heritage Foundation. 2025

Karst Topography

 - Winneshiek County Conservation Board

Algific Talus Slopes

 - Wisconsin DNR

The Hot - Subnivean

Below the Snow

 - Ellen Horowitz. Montana Outdoors. March-April 2024

The Subnivean Zone: Shelter in the Snow

 - Barbara Mackay. Northern Woodlands Magazine. December 29, 2014.

Five Features of the Secret Ecosystem Under the Snow 

-Johnathan Pauli and Benjamin Zuckerberg. Grow Magazine, Spring 2024.

 Anaamaagon: Under the Snow: Exhibit Guide 

 - Cable Museum of Natural History, 2024

Images, unless noted - Marge Loch-Wouters

Standing in the 71F sunshine to warm up
after exploring the algific talus vents

You can read my quarterly column on seasonal hiking suggestions in Inspire(d) Driftless Magazine available online or pick up a free copy at businesses and organizations around the Driftless areas of Minnesota, Wisconsin and Iowa.

Naturalist's Corner - A Subtle Observation of Nature

In this month's column, we welcome Bruce Ause, a marvelous naturalist and educator. Bruce spent 30 years as the Director at Red Wing's Environmental Learning Center. He lives in Wacouta MN, not far from Frontenac State Park where he leads weekly interpretive hikes during the warm seasons.  I encourage you to subscribe to his blog Wacouta Nature Notes where he shares his observations of nature year-round. In this recent post, Bruce shared a perfect example of how phenology, the study of seasonal changes in plants and animals, can inform us of the subtle shifts that occur around us. Keeping our attention on small things opens a whole new pathway to understanding our world more deeply. And Bruce does this beautifully in this observational blog post, reprinted with permission.

Fall Colors Later In Wacouta This Year

by Bruce Ause

Wacouta Nature Notes blog

On average, peak colors usually arrive around mid-October locally. However, due to a combination of the lingering effects of unusual summer conditions and a lack of a significant drop in temperatures, peak colors were at least a week later in 2025.

A view from the top of Rattlesnake Bluff

Here is the fall color scene from the top of Rattlesnake Bluff 300 feet above State Highway 61.

Fall colors as seen from Wacouta Road

Here is the scene of Sevastopol bluff with the impressive Wacouta prairie in the foreground. It is hard to imagine the full recovery of this prairie after the prescribed burn this past spring. I have received numerous reports from folks walking on the trail of sighting up to 9 pheasants residing in the prairie.

Fall colors from the east end of Lakeview Avenue

During the spring and summer months, most of the food production necessary for tree growth occurs in the leaves. This process of photosynthesis takes place in the cells containing pigment known as chlorophyll.

As we head into the fall season with shorter periods of daylight and cooler night, the leaves respond by producing fewer carbohydrates and chlorophyll starts to deteriorate. Yellow pigments called carotenoids in these beautiful hard maples now become much more noticeable. 

Sevastopol Bluff with Wacouta Bay in the foreground

The colors on the north facing bluff were so much more vibrant than those on the south facing bluffs of Wisconsin on November 3.

Low river level at head of Lake Pepin

With the river level for most of October below 3 feet, the impact on various wildlife varied. Over the years, my last sighting of turkey vultures was October 15th. My last sighting this year was October 17th.

In my last post, I commented on all the white pelicans I had been observing at the lower end of Lighthouse Island. In recent years, with higher water levels and the start of the waterfowl hunting activity most pelicans started migrating by mid-October. Today November 3rd, there was still a flock of pelicans resting on that island. With the low water levels, fishing must still be good for these birds.

On the other hand, local beavers are facing a difficult situation going into winter. For their lodges to be safe from predators, the entrances must be underwater. With the current low water levels, that is not the case.

Beaver cutting

With the low water, beavers can still locate a food source quite easily. In this case, the bark from this fallen tree was quickly eaten. 

Beaver

The challenges facing beaver under the low water conditions are where can they build their feedpiles of branches for the upcoming winter? In more normal conditions, beaver establish the food supplies at the edge of their lodges. When hungry during the winter, they swim out from the lodge under the ice to bring food back into their living quarters. That is no longer possible.

Buck rub

With decreasing daylight by the first of November, whitetail deer enter the rutting season. To claim territories and prepare for future confrontations, bucks will spar with small saplings and leave their scent.

Interesting deer sign

On Saturday morning November 1st, I received a phone call from a nearby friend, Brian Schreiber. Earlier that morning, Brian and his wife Grete while out for their morning walk on Ski Road, noticed some very unusual activity in their recently picked soybean field.

He asked me to come over and confirm his suspicions. There were three possibilities.

1. UFO activity

2. Given the fact this occurred the night after Halloween, maybe some prankster activity.

3. Evidence of quite the fight between two large bucks. Of all the time I have spent in the woods during the fall, I have never observed such a confrontation.

All images - Bruce Ause

Naturalist's Corner - Fungi Fun

A wreath of turkey tails around a stump

Wow! The late summer and early fall woods have been a wonderland of interesting fungi. While the flowers of the prairies and forests are fading, the mushrooms are still popping.

We often hunt for mushrooms for tasty eating. Who can resist a morel, chicken of the woods, chanterelle or lobster mushroom? But there is much to be said for simply delighting in and learning to identify the mycelium network's endless parade of interesting fungal fruit.  

Fruit? Yes, fruit.

Mushrooms and fungi are the fruiting bodies of the vast, intricate mycelium network that stretches underground, often for miles. Mushrooms use enzymes to break down organic material rather than photosynthesis. They are the great decomposers of the earth. The material that is broken down eventually becomes soil. We see that decomposition work in every branch or tree trunk covered in fungi that we pass along the trail. And, if we stay alert on the sides of the trails we hike, there are many delightful fungi to catch the eye.

Looking at the inside stem of
a chanterelle mushroom
on a guided hike

If you have the opportunity, I highly recommend going on a guided hike or two with mushroom experts. They provide great tips on finding and identifying both edible and non-edible fungi. As someone new to mushroom identification, I found these learning experiences really helpful as my eyes got more attuned to fungi finding. Plus I'm lucky to have lots of hiking buddies who share my delight - and much sharper eyes than mine!

As a newbie, I often see a mushroom on the trails that I can't identify. I take photos from different angles and then head home to work on more accurately identifying the fungi. Apps like Picture Mushroom, Shroom ID, Shroomify can help to get a first general ID but can be pricey.  Seek can sometimes come in handy but often can only do a generalized identification.

So I start my real study with Teresa Marrone and Kathy Yerich's field guide, Mushrooms of the Upper Midwest. This guide is small enough to carry in a back pack but I am often hiking at pace and don't have the time to linger. At home, I can take my time to compare my photos and their descriptions to come up with an identification. 

Below are a few of my favorite fungi pictures from the last several months. I hope you keep your eye out for the next few weeks while you're leaf-peeping and see what you can find!

The common but always beautiful 
dryad's saddle or pheasant back mushroom

Jelly tree ear fungus

A herd of orange mycena mushrooms

Fluted elfin saddle mushroom

An intricate wrinkled peach mushroom

Very tiny purple fairy finger mushrooms

Not cheetos, but delicate golden club mushrooms

Chicken of the woods

Dog's nose fungus

Snow jelly fungus

An "old" old-man-of-the-woods

Scarlet waxy cap mushroom

Lung oyster mushroom

Indigo milkcap mushroom

Shaggy mane mushroom going to ink

Purple-gilled laccaria

See you on the trails!

Images - Marge Loch-Wouters