An Island, a Flower, and an Army

According to the Illinois Department of Natural Resources, Illinois contains 324 species of plants that are listed as threatened or endangered, at the state level (251 endangered, 73 threatened).  Some of them are listed because their natural range only slightly encroaches into Illinois from surrounding states where the species is secure.  To put it in herpetological perspective, think of the eastern coachwhip (Masticophis f. flagellum).  In general, the species is doing fine, but the lone population in Illinois, located in a small preserve along the Mississippi River in Monroe County, is not secure, and in fact there is some debate as to whether or not they even still exist there any longer.  Still, there is no proof they're extirpated in Illinois, and Illinois governs itself as its own independent entity, so the species remains listed and protected.

Some plants are listed because their once-abundant reign has been threatened by anthropogenic factors such as the spread of agriculture and development.  Again, if we think of this in herp terms, the best example I can think of is that of the eastern massasauga rattlesnake (Sistrurus catenatus).  This species was once widespread throughout the state and the entirety of its range in the Midwest, but numbers quickly plummeted following the destruction of their habitat and the unwillingness of people to accept the snake as a part of their natural heritage (which of course led to innumerable deaths by stick/shovel/gun/you name it).  Today, the massasauga is extremely rare in Illinois, and not doing particularly well elsewhere.

And then, there are plants that are protected because their entire natural range is a 25-acre (Schwegman, 1991) island in the middle of a river.  And really, not even the entire island - more like a corner of the island.  The Kankakee mallow (Iliamna remota), though occasionally cultivated away from its native habitat, is naturally restricted to Langham Island and is found nowhere else on earth.  Its insular existence creates more questions than answers - why is it found only on the island, and not in nearby areas?  Why doesn't it spread?  How did it get on the island?  If it was ever prehistorically more abundant throughout the region, why is a small island its final stronghold?

  This example of endemicity is not mirrored by any herp in Illinois.  At the top of my head, there are no examples of reptile or amphibian that have such a restricted range, in Illinois or possibly the country.  So that means I'm treading into very unknown territory here since plants are not exactly my forte.  However, as a naturalist, I cannot help but harbor a profound interest in such a rare and mysterious plant.  In June, word got out quickly that the Kankakee mallow was in bloom on Langham Island for the first time in a decade.  A good ecologist friend of mine, Trevor Edmonson, heads up the restoration of Langham Island, and offered to take some time to give me a little tour.  In the worst case scenario, the mallow would not be flowering but I'd still get a kayak trip out of it.  That didn't sound too bad to me - kayaks are my friends.

As good fortune would have it, the Kankakee mallow was in bloom, and to top it off, the day was sunny, breezy, and warm.  I was also quite fortunate I didn't contract poison ivy, since it grows all over the island and I wore shorts.  After paddling to the island, I followed Trevor up a narrow path through dense undergrowth, much of it invasive and in need of removal.  We reached a clear, bright spot on the island where it was evident brush had been removed.  Pieces of charred wood indicated that the area had been burned recently.  Trevor confirmed those were the results of the work he and his army of volunteers carries out on a regular basis.  And there, protected from deer within makeshift wire fences, were the rare and beautiful Kankakee mallow.  It was an honor to be standing there among one of the rarest plants in the country, in the only place it occurs.

 After we got our fill of the mallow, we decided to poke around the island a bit and just explore.  We  searched the island's boundaries, scoping the river for turtles and flipping rocks in search of snakes or frogs.  While flipping a few rocks, Trevor pointed out a rather nondescript plant with little white flowers, growing among the rocks just a few feet from the water's edge.  He said it was called northern corn salad (Valerianella umbilicata).  Okay, so it had a funny name.  A lot of plants have funny names.  But!  This plant also is an endangered species in Illinois.  It has very few occurrences in the state and evidently this was one of them.  Very cool.

You didn't think I'd end this post without a herp, did you?  Here's an adult female northern map turtle (Graptemys geographica) that Trevor yanked from the river.  

In closing, this day stood out as the final outing I'd have before my daughter Lumen was born less than two weeks later.  My free time is precious, but Lumen is even more so, and therefore updates will likely be more sporadic.  Stay tuned, because although I'm slowing down (for the time being), I'm not stopping.  Coming soon:  Intro to Lumen!

Kirtland's Quest: Outside the Box

The Kirtland's snake (Clonophis kirtlandii) is exceedingly rare in northeastern Illinois.  It is a state-threatened species and a candidate for federal protection.  Though remnant populations persist in a few widely scattered areas, on the whole, there isn't much hope at all that the species ever will expand beyond the current known preserves.  Small urban pockets of them once were fairly commonplace; these are now probably all extirpated.  Their wet meadows have either been destroyed or heavily altered through succession, pollution, lowering of the water table, and so on.  They rely heavily on crayfish, as they live and feed within the crayfish burrows.  As the crayfish succumb to similar changes and die off, eventually so do the snakes.

However, there are exceptions to almost every rule, and Kirtland's snakes from a few sites in central Illinois have adapted miraculously well to drastic changes in their habitat.  Long gone are the wet meadows, and in their place are manmade lakes.  Crayfish can still be found in some numbers, but the snakes seem to prefer living along the water's edge, amongst and underneath rocks, boulders, and driftwood.  Manicured grass surrounds the lakes in most areas to facilitate fishing; this seems to have little impact on both the crayfish and the snakes, oddly enough. 

It is an unusual arrangement for an animal as specialized as the Kirtland's snake.  Such a drastic departure from the classic Kirtland's snake habitat, and yet there they are, appearing to be doing just well in places you'd expect to, and will, find northern water snakes (Nerodia sipedon).  This is why, on May 29th, I was alternating between scratching my head and containing my excitement over finding the species while I was searching for this elusive natricine.

 I had gotten up very early that morning to pick up Tristan Schramer so we'd head down together.  En route to the Schramer residence, I passed a large dead common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina) on I90 heading west toward the burbs.  It had somehow gotten itself stuck in a construction zone while attempting to cross the highway, and once it made its way between the cement barriers, it was just a matter of time before someone was going to hit it.  Sadly, it was probably a female on her way to lay eggs.  Maybe she had already laid them and was on her way back - that's the best case scenario.

We planned on visiting at least three sites, each with at least one record of a Kirtland's snake.  In all we hit four sites, as well as a few side trips in between to search for the Graham's crayfish snake (Regina grahamii) and the prairie kingsnake (Lampropeltis calligaster).  We found three Kirtland's snakes, including a heavily gravid adult female in prenatal shed, from two of the sites.  Under permit, we collected scale clips for genetic analysis, to be submitted to the Illinois Natural History Survey (INHS).  In order to protect the snakes from collectors or overzealous, irresponsible field herpers (there are a lot of those) , I'm not going to post any defining landmarks or clues that easily give away the sites, but I do want to illustrate the sort of habitat these snakes have somehow adapted well to.

This is the sort of habitat the Kirtland's snakes are found in.  In fact, our first Kirtland's snake was found right here, under the "triangular" rock below the two pieces of wood that form an "x".

 The Kirtland's snakes here have not completely abandoned their classic ways.  Under many of the rocks found in the vicinity, crayfish have constructed burrows.  Though we didn't observe any of the snakes in the direct vicinity of the burrows, we speculate that they do use these to their benefit, at least as hibernacula.

 An adult male Kirtland's snake.  Nobody in their right mind can deny the striking beauty these snakes possess.

 Tristan mugging for the camera with a Kirtland's snake, before we collected a scale clipping and let the snake on its merry way.

 This is a roadside ditch that is under normal circumstances, at least partially filled with water.  This day, it was bone dry.  We looked for snakes without success, but we did find a writhing mass of smallmouth salamander (Ambystoma texanum) and various frog larvae, including grey tree frogs (Hyla versicolor/chrysoscelis) mushed together in the last moist depression at the lowest portion of the ditch.  There was actually no water at all, yet the larvae seemed to be exuding a slime, which collectively formed a moist protectant for the larvae.  Many of the larvae on the outer fringes of the mass were already dead, and flies were numerous on both the living and the dead larvae.  With the day getting warmer and warmer, it was just a matter of time before these larvae were toast.  Tristan and I had thoughts of moving them to the nearby marsh, but we thought better of it and just left these where they were.  Nature will find its way.

 The large gravid Kirtland's snake.  She was ready to pop any day.

A reminder that all activities were performed under a permit that allowed us to collect information for the permitting organization.  All of the Kirtland's snakes were handled minimally - enough for a few photos and for scale clips.  An awesome day, and one that assured us that at least in some places, this species is secure.