Welcome to Battelle Darby, a fan favourite (of yours truly)!
I have taken my family to this very wet prairie twice now, only to disappoint them both times. How I have raved to them about how the blackbirds rose from these grasses (and sedges) early in the morning and how I promised flocks of shorbs (not to be confused with forbs) and ducks to them. Of course, when I brought my family to show them my favourite MetroPark, we barely broke 10 species—not once, but twice—and they continue to mock me for this unfortunate turn of events. However, now I am armed with my trusty notebook and field guide to guarantee dozens of species, regardless of the migration the night before.
The wet prairie was the first site we arrived at two Sundays back and we were met by Common Yellowthroats singing and nondescript grasses swaying in a light breeze. The sun struck leaves of several casually interspersed trees and in the distance, cattails could be made out. As I stepped from the bus, I recognized some goldenrod “spuh” and some other wildflowers dotted throughout the predominant grasses and relatives. Though we never made it far enough, I knew there were pools of water hidden behind the tall vegetation. I am now loathe to admit that I referred to every single grassy plant (and several forbs) as grasses before today. While the grasses definitely outnumber the sedges, that is a sorry excuse, and I was alarmed to learn that some grasses were… not grasses…
Big Bluestem, my trusty new friend, was as it appeared to me—a grass. I cannot claim to think its stem blue, as it is a clear shade of reddish-purple. Only vague traces of blue give it the title of purple and I do not believe any normal person could look at the stem with no knowledge of the name only to call it blue. It is a red or, if one is feeling lenient, purple. Semantics aside, the folding of the leaves around the round stem is a clear indicator of this plant being a grass.
Woolgrass, on the other hand, is a liar in name and form. This is not a grass, but a sedge, which is a grass-like prairie resident. Sedges can be difficult to distinguish, but with the helpful saying “sedges have edges,” and the knowledge that the blades connect with each other, rather than wrapping around like a grass burrito makes this identification more straightforward.
As aforementioned, the wet-prairie involved several trees. These woody plants were generally restricted to American Cottonwood and American Sycamore. The two trees to choose from are rather simple to differentiate, given that American Sycamore involves distinct lobing and, when it grows enough, has peeling bark with blotches of browns and whites. The Cottonwood, on the other hand, has toothed leaves in a shape akin to that of a Barn Owl’s head and much plainer in bark. The centerpiece of the photo below is the cottonwood, with the sycamore all but photobombing in the bottom left.
Hello… my name is Indigo Montoya. You killed my father; prepare to die.
Wait, that’s not right… we weren’t exactly held at swordpoint and threatened with death, but False White Inigo—I mean Indigo—held our attention with its elliptical leaves and fat pods for some time. This prairie forb’s fruits are the clearest ID characteristic, but the sturdy, pale-green stems and leaves often found in threes assist as field marks when the pods or flowers are absent.
After so many beautiful native plants, I must include an invasive plant. With thin leaves, which are tapered on both ends, and bark with prominent lenticels, the Autumn Olive stands out. The fruits, which are not pictured here, are rather waxy in appearance and can be consumed safely by humans.
This plant, unfortunately, kicks off the woody portion of the field trip. However, the limestone woods were dominated by far superior plant life, including Blue Ash, which was the star of the show, as far as I was concerned. Dominated by ashes, hackberries, maples, with spicebush and flowering dogwood, as well as Fragrant Sumac, goldenrods, and a smattering of sanacles and White Snakerood, the woods were well-shaded throughout. In the lower portion of the woods, we found more oaks, sycamores, brasswood, and maples dominating the canopy, with paw-paws, nannyberry, spicebush, and bladdernut in the understory. On the ground or up trees, Canadian Wild Ginger, Poison Ivy, and some Virginia Creepers abounded.
On our trip, we were granted the honour of Blue Ash (my most favourite tree), Eastern Red Cedar, Chinquapin Oak, Redbud (which I unfortunately failed to capture suitable photographs of), and Hophorn-beam. Blue Ash, which is undeniably the very best of trees, has characteristically square-shaped twigs and branches, which are very difficult to confuse with any other tree. I deeply appreciate the ease of ID associated with this ash, given the difficulty of the others (I’m looking at you, Green/White Ash).
While it certainly was not on our list of calciphiles, I believe it important to mention the Canadian Wild Ginger that we were able to see. Firstly, the leaves are a fabulous, almost lily pad shape, which is splendid in its own right, and secondly, they are Brett’s study species and any dash of passion about a particular plant makes it all the more beautiful. Additionally, like the Blue Ash, the plant is rather easy to ID, what with its height, shape, colouration, and arrangement.
Back to calciphiles, Hop-hornbeam leaves remind me of Hackberries, though they seem a bit more normal to me, as the leaf bases are symmetrical. The fruits in clusters of three is charming and are a reliable field mark of the tree, along with the pine-cone-shaped flowers, though we were unable to enjoy those.
A flock of Cedar Waxwings greeted us as we looked over the ledge to the creek flowing through the woods. Of course, they clustered around their namesake, the Eastern Red Cedar, and flew between it and the American Sycamore, which is always a favourite! The ruddy, shaggy bark and juniper-like, scaly needles of the cedar make this tree readily recognizable.
While I have heard people talk about boxelders looking like poison ivy, I find Fragrant Sumac easier to confuse with the poisonous woody vine. Of course, this is a shrub, rather than a vine, but the clustered leaves caught me off guard, especially since we had recently spotted some Poison Ivy and spent some time discussing the harmful and cumulative effects of the oils on its surface. These leaves, however, have no such effect, and smell rather citrusy. Additionally, the leaves are more regular when compared with the variation in Poison Ivy leaves.
Finally, a tree that met us on the walk back to the bus, the Chinquapin Oak is identified by its leaves with pointed toothing and a long leaf that tapers to its base. Oaks are always a welcome sight, as they serve the ecosystem well and, on a more lighthearted note, collecting the acorns and whistling through their caps is a splendid past time in the woods.
Blue Ash (Fraxinus quadrangulata)Pin Oaks, Sugar Maples, White Oaks, Red Oaks, and Shagbark Hickories, which reside in my backyard and in the oft-frequented Cincinnati Nature Center, are usually restrained to western Ohio by the thick glacial till characteristic of the area. These trees are the ones most familiar to me and feel almost like friends, despite the fact that I’ve never known very much about botany and trees. I don’t think I’ve ever lived outside of the range of most of these trees (quite possibly all of them) and it always feels foreign to be without them.
Species such as Chestnut Oaks, Sourwood, Huckleberry-Blueberry, Scrub Pine, and Greenbrier are bound to the sandstone hill of eastern Ohio for the most part, as they do not love the limey soils of the majority of the state. This does allow greater biodiversity, which is great fun for the botanists of the state. Columbus is well within reach for each of these three soil types, if one is willing to drive for an hour or two, which is quite fortunate for my classmates and I.
The major determinant of the distribution of sweet buckeye is the time since the glaciers receded, as any other determinant is rather unclear as to why it stops before pushing further north, geologically. Climate may play a role, and certainly does in hemlocks, as they delight in the northern areas, in contrast with sweet buckeyes. Hemlocks prefer the moist, cool environments that can be found in northern Ohio. Rhododendrons, on the other hand, seem to be restricted to unglaciated areas in valleys, which is really interesting. I must admit I did not know we had a native rhododendron.
The western and majority of Ohio is primarily composed of more delicate limestone rocks and soils with high-clay content. Water does not enter such an area with any sort of ease and this results in both floods and droughts significantly impacting the landscape and vegetation. The flat nature of the area helps little. For the smaller, eastern portion, the sturdy sandstone persists and forms a more hilly, albeit smaller portion of the state. The water readily flows through this soil type and the substrate is well-aerated.
The Teays River, which is quite a strange spelling for something that is pronounced like “taze,” as in “tazer,” played a significant role in eroding and shaping the land into what we see today. Only the glaciers curtailed and surpassed this river’s effects on the land, after its approximately 200 million year lifespan. Initially, the soil was layered with limestone on top, sandstone in the middle, and shale at the bottom. River Teays cut through the limestone to expose the sandstone that now dominates eastern Ohio, but left the western portion of the state alone, which allowed the calciphiles to enjoy their limey-clay-dominated soils.
3. Pleistocene glaciers invaded OH a few hundred thousand years ago or less. What feature of the landscape slowed the glaciers and so caused there to be a glacial boundary cutting across OH? Sketch a map of Ohio and on it place the glacial boundary
The substrate left behind by the glaciers, or rather the glacial till, is far thicker with a more substantial amount of lime and clay in the west, while it thins out over the sandstone in the east. Of course, some lime remains in the east, but it is comparatively a very small amount, spread thin or completely absent.
With the sandstone in the east and the limestone in the west of Ohio, the geology often differs with the plant composition. The eastern, acidic soils tend to be drier and low in nutrients, but is well aerated. The western, limestone-dominated parts of the state have more abundant water and nutrients, but the soil is very poorly aerated due to the more compact soil.