Nachusa Grasslands is a 3500 acre tallgrass prairie in Lee County. Owned and managed by the Nature Conservancy since 1986, Nachusa has been the site of many cutting-edge restoration techniques and practices. It boasts over 700 species of plants and animals, including a number of state- and federally-endangered or threatened species such as the ornate box turtle (Terrapene ornata), Henslow's sparrow (Ammodramus henslowii), and prairie bush clover (Lespedeza leptostachya). I'm sure that a comprehensive list of species could be found somewhere online. It has been spared the plow due to its sandstone outcrops and gently rolling landscape, and had previously used primarily for grazing (much of the surrounding landscape is the same and is still being grazed upon by cattle).
A few years ago, land managers toyed with the idea of using bison as part of the ongoing restoration process. Previously, virtually all restoration techniques involved people directly. But bison are known for shaping the prairie landscape in a much different way than fire. As a herd grazes, they open up patches of prairie, allowing other kinds of plants to grow in those spaces. Flowers and other sun-loving plants sprout and attract pollinators, which of course benefits the prairie immensely. As long as the bison number is kept in check and closely monitored, a balance can be achieved in a prairie, allowing for the right amount of grassy expanse and open gaps.
Once the addition of bison to Nachusa was given the green light, I was stoked. I kept up with all the news and updates from the Nature Conservancy - they were to be brought in in October, and, following some time in a holding pen, were released into a large portion of Nachusa in mid-November. I wanted to get there as soon as I possibly could to see these bison. Even though they are not technically wild (fences do keep them from straying off the property), they enjoy a relatively vast area to roam and act as though they were wild. Aimee and I drove there on Sunday, November 30th. After a very surreal drive through a dense fog (think Silent Hill), we made it to the main entrance to the preserve, which currently does not have bison.
As in-touch with the natural world as I am and always have been, I in fact do live in a big city. Seldom am I in an environment this open and vast. There is no discomfort or even unfamiliarity in this element, yet still, there is a brief acclimation period I must go through when I walk an area like this. The raw, cold weather and the wind, blowing across the blank late-fall prairie makes for a certain feeling of loneliness. Maybe it's because I'm a reptile guy and I have no company. Maybe it's because the sky was painted a monotone grey, lacking birds aside from a few cackling crows off in the distance. Maybe it's all of the above. Whatever the case, in spite of the feeling of emptiness, there was an unexplainable feeling of tranquility and a sense that I belonged there.
I stopped here and stared at everything and nothing at the same time.
We then decided to head over to where the bison were. I was really really hoping we'd get to see them. There is no parking where the bison currently are being kept, and a sign at the main entrance mentioned that the bison could be viewed from the road. So we drove around a few muddy, gravely back roads, hoping to spot the bison herd.
After tracing the prairie they were in without a single sight of bison, I surmised that the animals were most likely in the heart of the prairie, far from the roads and out of our visual range. Bummer. I mean, it was cool that we were there - we were in bison territory. We were so close, I could smell them (ok, maybe I just imagined it). We knew where they were, so that if we had time, we could re-visit the area at a later date and hopefully catch them then. Complacent that we at least took advantage of a rare day off together, Aimee and I decided to head back to civilization.
Back on the main road, I glanced out to my right to see a bunch of cows milling about in a farm pasture. I thought about how humans created these animals from their ancestors long ago. About how long it took humans to tame the prairie, and how long it took to essentially transform a wild landscape into a neat patchwork of farms, villages, towns, cities, roads, highways, and skyscrapers. I let out a little sigh, and then, turned to my left. And that's when I saw them.
Off in the distance, cloaked in fog, was the herd of twenty bison, grazing in the middle of the field! Immediately I braked and pulled off to the side of the paved road. As I exited the car with my camera, a car approaching in the opposite lane also stopped so the riders could see the bison. I ran across the road, jumped over a ditch overgrown with tall dead grass, and got as close to the fence as I could. Look!
Here's a closeup of the herd. It's blurry, but I don't really care, because I was actually there to see them first-hand, and it was awesome! I was absolutely geeking out over it.
I guess, more than just the thrill of seeing the bison, what excited me was the idea that there are people out there dedicated to not only preserving natural spaces but also to improve them through various means. Adding bison is a huge step in helping to educate people about Illinois' natural history. I imagined a day when this and other restoration practices become better understood and implemented on a more, dare I say "mainstream" level. Because, I truly feel that living intertwined with nature benefits mankind. I'll be back for sure, hopefully sooner than later. Stay tuned...
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