Citizen Scientists Awake—We Have Wildflowers!

Laramie botanists are emerging from hibernation, hungry and irritable, in critical need of floral sustenance. But while other plant lovers are gaily posting colorful photos of spring flowers and lush foliage, we're desperately searching for any color at all.

NOAA’s extended forecast; the little pictures say it all.

I’m exaggerating, but barely. Wildflowers are just now appearing, and to see them we have to get out in between snow storms. Last Friday was sunny, so I grabbed my camera and drove up into the Laramie Mountains. Fortunately all the heavy wet snow from a few days before was mostly gone. I was intent on adding observations to my Plants of the Southern Laramie Mountains project in iNaturalist, which has lain dormant since last fall.

I didn't have to walk far to be rewarded. Pasque flowers (Pulsatilla or Anemone patens ssp. multifida) were common, as they usually are this time of year—in the field and on Facebook! But then who wouldn't be excited to come across large showy flowers when everything else is mostly brown and gray.

I found Oregon grape (officially creeping barberry, Mahonia repens) at the base of large granite boulders on a south-facing slope. Neat discovery—I didn’t know it bloomed so early. With flowers it's a good addition to my iNat project.

While on the ground photographing Oregon grape, I spotted spring beauty (Claytonia lanceolata). It is a beauty, but you have to look close as the flowers are only about a centimeter across.

In a sunny opening in the forest, three goslins caught my eye—luckily. I don't usually see them. Their downy brown and gold coats blend well with dead vegetation and litter.

What are goslins? The purplish patch above is a hint (click on image for a better view). Goslinweed is another name for pasque flower, because the buds look like goslings.

Source.

I wandered across a gentle south-facing slope with scattered low sagebrush. I was searching for Easter daisies, but brilliant yellow spots stopped me—sagebrush buttercups (Ranunuculus glaberrimus var. ellipticus). They're usually the first spring wildflowers I see in the Laramie Mountains, and are bright beyond bright in the dull landscapes.

Nearby were the coveted Easter daisies (Townsendia hookeri). Officially they’re called Hooker’s Townsend daisies, which raises the question: "Just exactly whose daisy is this?" In 1834, English botanist William Hooker named the genus for Pennsylvanian David Townsend, a civic-minded banker and respected amateur botanist. In 1957, American botanist John Beaman named the species for William Hooker.

And it gets more complicated. (Readers who aren't taxonomy geeks may want to skip this paragraph.) The Encyclopedia of Life calls T. hookerii “Nuttall’s Townsend daisy”—which lured me into further research. Strictly speaking, Nuttall's Townsend daisy is T. nuttallii. But T. nuttallii is usually lumped in with T. hookeri. Not here in Wyoming however. In fact one of our botanists, Robert Dorn, named it. T. nuttallii is restricted to limestone areas, and hasn't been reported from the Laramie Mountains. So I won’t worry whether the leaves are linear-oblanceolate (vs. linear), and whether the bristles of the pappus are of two lengths. This post illustrates vividly (nice photos) the challenges of our townsendias.

I collected a plant to add to my native xeric plants bed, next to what I believe are stemless Townsend daisies (T. exscapa). In 2013 I rescued them from a prairie in advance of road construction. T. hookeri and T. exscapa are hard to tell apart; the Flora of North America separates them based only on size of various floral parts—unfortunately. Distinctive characters are so much easier and reassuring!

A gasket scraper is an effective collecting tool for small compact plants in rocky soil.

Townsendia exscapa transplanted in 2013. They have thrived in the garden (next photo).

Hopefully these are two species, and hopefully I'll get a feel for their differences. Already I've seen a difference in “behavior.” When winter returned two days ago, the new arrival from the mountains duly opened its flowers in the morning, but the prairie daisies stayed shut all day.

Left, Easter daisy from Laramie Mountains (8000 feet elevation); right, Easter daisy from Laramie Valley (7000 feet). Photo was taken mid-afternoon on a cold gray day.

Yesterday was clear, and all the Easter daisies were singing in the sunshine.

But today ...

... only Frog Jolson keeps the music alive:

Daisies in Waiting

Easter daisies in foreground, to right of bunny tracks.

The Easter daisies are waiting ... waiting for spring.  It may be January, but these guys are ready to go!

Just look:

January 12, 2014

They keep green leaves all winter ...

and already have flower buds, which formed last fall ...

so with the first sign of spring, sometime around Easter ...

they will burst into bloom when the other prairie plants are just starting to grow.

March 30, 2012.  "Flowers" (heads) are about an inch across.

Their scientific name is Townsendia, and some people call them that -- townsendias.  The Federal government calls them Townsend daisies (USDA Plants Database).  There are at least 25 species, all native to western North America.

Last May I rescued several Easter daisy plants from a grassland scheduled to become a road, and put them in a raised bed in the backyard.  I quit watering them after only a week or so, and they did just fine.  They're true xerophytes.  Meanwhile, there's still no sign of road construction.  Maybe I’ll transplant more townsendias this year.

May 30, 2013.

Some townsendias, mine for example, are tough to identify.  So I collected a voucher specimen, took it to the Rocky Mountain Herbarium at the University of Wyoming, and compared it with descriptions in the literature and specimens in the collection.  It is Townsendia hookeri, Hooker’s Easter daisy.

Compiled from Flora of North America.

Flowers of T. hookeri (above, left) are smaller than those T. exscapa (right), with which it’s often confused.  Technically these are heads not flowers.  Townsendias are composites (Asteraceae); what looks like a single flower is actually a head composed of many tiny flowers or florets.

Hooker's Easter daisy heads, each with yellow disk flowers surrounded by white ray flowers.

UPDATE:  Cindy Reed of the Great Plains Native Plant Society provided the photo below of Townsendia exscapa.  These two townsendias are easily confused when not seen together, i.e. based on descriptions only.  When open, T. exscapa has longer more loosely-arranged ray flowers.  In T. hookeri, the flower clusters are tighter, and leaves are narrower and more crowded, "presenting a finer-textured tuft" (Claude Barr).  They were considered a single species until J.H. Beaman split them in 1957 (I agree with Beaman).

Townsendia exscapa, the Easter daisy found by Richardson and named in honor of D. Townsend by Hooker.  Photo by Cindy Reed.

Townsendia hookeri, for comparison.

I mounted my voucher specimen of last week.  Soon it will be added to the 825,000 specimens already in the Rocky Mountain Herbarium.

I’ve kept an eye on my Easter daisies as I walk by them every day, and I was amazed to discover that the little cushion plants over-winter with evergreen leaves and fully-formed flower buds.  This is Wyoming and 7200 ft elevation ... how do they keep from freezing?! At least they’re low to the ground and out of the wind, and often protected by snow.

“The flower buds remain green against any odds of winter weather and hurry toward bringing out every blossom within a few days” wrote Claude Barr, the great native plants gardener of the Great Plains (in Jewels of the Plains, 1983, University of Minnesota Press).

Indeed, Easter daisies bloom before other plants have grown much at all, and thus can enjoy whatever sunshine spring offers.  They’re buried with each spring blizzard, and then when the snow melts, they continue as before.

Easter daisies open as the morning warms.  March 30, 2012.

There are many creatures named “Townsend” in this part of the world, including a solitaire (bird), ground squirrel, chipmunk, mole, vole, jack rabbit, and of course daisies. Most were named for John Kirk Townsend, one of the great 19th-century naturalists of North America, but John Kirk is not the Townsend of Easter daisy fame, though you will occasionally read otherwise.  Townsendias were named for David Townsend, a prominent citizen of West Chester, Pennsylvania -- a banker, County Commissioner and enthusiastic botanist.  He neither discovered nor named Townsendia, and it’s not clear that he ever saw one in the wild.  The first collection on record was made by John Richardson in Saskatchewan.  He called it Aster exscapa.  When W.J. Hooker of the Royal Botanic Gardens reviewed the specimen, he decided it was sufficiently distinct to warrant its own genus, which he named in honor of Townsend:

“I have named the genus in compliment to David Townsend, Esq. of West Chester, Pennsylvania who having imbibed the most ardent love of Botany from his friend and instructor Dr. Darlington of the same city, has devoted his leisure hours to the science with eminent success.” (Hooker, W.J. 1840.  Flora Boreali-Americana: or, the Botany of the Northern Parts of British America, Volume 2)

W.J. Hooker himself was honored when J.H. Beaman described and named Townsendia hookeri in 1957, based on a specimen from Mt. Vernon Canyon in Jefferson County, Colorado:

“To the layman, T. hookeri is perhaps as well known as any species of Townsendia.  In Colorado it is abundant at the base of the Front Range and is one of the first flowers of the year; hence, its name Easter Daisy.”

An early spring bouquet.

Those lucky enough to catch Easter daisies in full flower adore them.  Though low to the ground, they’re spectacular against the dull browns and grays of an early spring grassland.  In Dakota Flora, Dave Ode suggests they would be the leprechauns’ favorite flowers if they grew in Ireland!  I have to agree -- the little plants with their large clusters of bright blooms are enchanting.  Claude Barr must have loved them too, judging by what he wrote:

“Wintering as a completely evergreen bun of narrow leaves close to the ground, and guarding its quota of autumn-set buds, Townsendia joyously responds to the gentle light and warmth of early spring with wide disks and short rays of soft gold and glowing light pink.  Fittingly, it is called ‘Easter-daisy’ ...” 

South Dakota rancher Claude Barr, "eminent plantsman of the plains" (Great Plains Native Plant Society)

Spring's still a long way off ... best to put back their cover of snow.

Easter Daisy Rescue

Between Laramie, Wyoming’s West Side and Interstate Highway 80 is a zone of undeveloped open space along the Laramie River.  This is an under-appreciated natural area -- a mix of riparian habitat, small wetlands, grassland and light industry.  All it takes is a bit of careful attention to discover treasures -- plants in bloom, animals doing their thing (foxes, muskrats, skunks, mice, deer, beaver, frogs, herons, kingfishers, hawks, ducks, orioles, goldfinches ... etc.), and the antics of the river (freeze, thaw, rise, drop, sparkle in the sunshine).

Wetland in winter -- cattails are on display all year round. 

Laramie River ice art, courtesy Jack Frost.

They may be small, but in early spring the Easter daisies are spectacular and make everyone smile!

Then every very four or five years, something gets built and the open space shrinks.  The largest area of grassland was split in half recently, when McCue Street was extended.  A Greenbelt Park was put in along the river, with a paved path -- great addition for Laramie citizens, but maybe not so great for wildlife in the riparian zone.  The land around the Territorial Prison was fenced, and we were told that anyone caught on the property without a pass would be arrested.  (Time would be served in the County Jail ... the Territorial Prison is a tourist attraction.)

Recent additions to the Territorial Prison.

The latest project in the works is a street that will connect the new viaduct across the Union Pacific Railroad tracks with Highways 130 and 230.  The route will cross the open space just west of the neighborhood, where I frequently walk.  There is quite a nice patch of Easter daisies (Townsendia sp.) directly in the path of the new street.  Can anything be done????

The “Blue Route” was chosen after much debate (not about Easter daisies).

Yes! ... call the Easter Daisy Rescue Team!!  Actually, I’m the entire “team” but I did seek help.  I emailed Cindy, long-time president of the Great Plains Native Plant Society and native plants gardener par excellence.

“There's a nice patch of townsendias in the open space west of my house that are due for destruction (street).  I'm thinking about snagging some for one of my wildflower beds.  Have you tried them?  Any suggestions?”

Her response was enthusiastic and very helpful:

“I think a good time would be just after they go to seed.  That would give them some time to recover from the stress of bringing all those buds to bloom, and yet still take advantage of the spring flush.  I get the best results when I can dig a good-sized clump of soil with the plant, rush it to its new home, and plop it into a hole of the same size.  Plastic grocery sacks make good transporters.  You won't even have to give them a sip out of your water bottle to tide them over during the trip to their new home! ... If there are plenty, why not dig some now, and some later?”

I proceeded exactly as directed.

By May 12, the threatened Easter daisies were almost done flowering.  Most of the heads had turned pink, and were closed up tight.

I dug up clumps -- plants with large chunks of soil -- put them in plastic grocery sacks and headed home.  There I dug appropriately-sized holes and "plopped" them in.

Easter daisies in their new home.

The transplanted Townsendias are doing well.  The leaves are all still vigorous and standing upright, not lying withered on the ground.  Last week, the heads opened once again, this time revealing little balls of winged seeds -- tiny “clocks” (as dandelion seed heads are called).  It was time for the second phase of the project.

Easter daisy clocks, ready for seed dispersal.

In exchange for Cindy’s helpful information, I was to collect seed for the Great Plains Native Plant Society’s seed exchange.  So I headed back to the Easter daisy patch where there were abundant seed heads.  Being a well-trained field botanist, I collected a voucher specimen to document the species, variety, genetic strain ... whatever ... of the seed source.  Easter daisies can be difficult to tell apart, so this voucher will be critical for determining which Townsendia this is, as will be seen in the sequel to this post.

Collecting tools.  A brick hammer is the best thing for getting a plant and its root out of tough prairie soils.  The specimen (near hammer head) with extra seed heads (left of hammer) go in the plastic bag.

Townsendia clocks, destined for the Great Plains Native Plant Society seed exchange.

At home, the specimen is cleaned of dirt and other debris ...

... revealing multiple stems in a single cushion.

This "cushion plant" is much too thick to press flat, so it is split, through the root.

Some heads are pulled off and pressed to reveal characters needed for identification.

Loose seeds are included.  They will go in a fragment envelope as part of the herbarium specimen.

The specimen in newspaper is placed between sheets of corrugated cardboard in the plant press ...

... and strapped up tight.  It was a sunny day, so I put the press on the dashboard of my parked car for drying.

And finally -- data, of course.  The necessary information was entered in my field book, including legal description following the old system still in place, and GPS coordinates for the inevitable change ahead.

My first collection of 2013.