Today, our pretend prairie celebrates the fifth anniversary of its first seed sowing. The prairie is our beautiful baby, and I don’t worry with questions about legitimacy.
Central Kentucky—the Bluegrass Region—was until human settlement, a vast woodland with cane breaks of native bamboo, Arundinaria gigantea. There were no prairies or meadows. Buffaloes foraged on bamboo, along what became U.S. Highway 127, a previously favored buffalo trace, just a mile or so from our farm.
Our installed prairie is still in the experimental phase—where, I suppose, it will always be. No telling where it will go from here. Biological gods will rule. My hunch is that our prairie, if we do nothing at all, will return to woodland.
A landscape of oaks, hickories, buckeyes, hackberries and maples isn’t a bad option, even while invasive bush honeysuckle and wintercreeper will continue to be a woodland menace.
So our installed prairie came of age this year. Big blue stem, switch grass and Indian grass grew tall and wide. They’re out competing against the shorter orange butterfly weed and purple coneflower that need a little more room. The taller goldenrods and ironweeds spontaneously worked their way into the mix. The heavy vegetative growth is so thick I can barely penetrate it on foot. There’s an easier, interesting and colorful walk along a mown path that crosses the prairie.
In late September, Rufus proudly brought back a wild turkey egg, clenched carefully between his teeth. A friend of mine who hunts wild turkeys said the nest was probably abandoned. Turkeys lay their eggs in late May through June, he said.
Rufus brought the egg home as a generous token. The little showoff! The boy’s a step too slow for a squirrel or rabbit. The wild turkey egg was the best he could do.
Posted by Allen Bush on December 14, 2016 at 7:57 am, in the category What's Happening.