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!