FLORA AND FAUNA
By JEFF DURBIN
September 30, 1999
Note: This article appeared in Vox, the Missourian's weekly magazine insert. The scanned original page includes illustrations. Full (and more readable) text follows.
OSAGE-ORANGE
The history of the osage-orange tree tells part of the history
of the American frontier. Native Americans used the wood--called
bois d'arc by French trappers, bodark by some Missourians today--for
archery bows. Saplings were strong and flexible, and strung with
bison sinew they made a formidable hunting weapon. Osage-orange
provided a very different use to the settlers who took over Indian
lands. Because there were few trees on the Plains, homesteaders
planted thorny osage-orange hedges in the years before the invention
of barbed wire (1874), and pruned them for slow growth. "Hedge,"
in fact, is another name for the tree. The hedge-fences made growing
crops and keeping livestock possible. Even some early streets
were paved with hard and heavy blocks of osage-orange. Untended
osage-orange hedges have now become rows of tall trees all over
the old frontier. The fruit vaguely resembles a highly wrinkled
grapefruit. Though inedible for humans, it's a squirrel and pack
rat favorite. Read the classic "PrairyErth" by local
writer William Least Heat-Moon for a more elegant story of osage-orange
(pages 279-287). Osage-orange trees do best on moist bottomlands,
but in general you simply find them here or there in Missouri
forests.
GRAY BAT
Halloween, complete with bats, goblins, and ghosts, is on the
way, but in Missouri most bats will soon leave for warmer areas.
Through the summer and into September, bats take wing precisely
at dusk and hone in on insects with echolocation, a bat-sonar
consisting of 30-60 squeaks per second. Here in Columbia, we see
them sharing the streetlit evenings with nighthawks, pursuing
moths, mosquitoes, and other insects. South of the city, endangered
gray bats nightly pour out of Devil's Icebox in Rock Bridge Memorial
State Park, and that's why the cave is closed from April to September.
Only mature females roost in the cave, and they don't tolerate
human disturbance well. About 10,000 raise young during the summer,
generally feeding at the Missouri River, eight miles away, consuming
about 30 percent of their body weight in insects each night. At
the end of summer, the females and males (which use other local
caves), join up and migrate to southern Missouri, where they hibernate.
Devil's Icebox is actually a cavern system through which an underground
river flows, fed by rainwater draining through sinkholes and a
"swallow hole" in Bonne Femme Creek--therefore the sensitivity
of the cave to chemicals, leaking septic tanks or trash dumps
on the surface above. Other bats also use Devil's Icebox at different
seasons: Indiana, eastern pipistrelle, and little and big brown
bats. Now that Devil's Icebox is open again, call the park at
449-7402 for a permit and reservation, which includes a guide
and equipment.
OAKS
Oak species dominate many of Missouri's forests. Oak-hickory forest
covers much of the Ozarks and central Missouri. The list of oaks
is long and impressive, with about 20 species in the state, plus
hybrids. Rather than pore over species differences in an armchair,
take a tree walk on the MU campus with a booklet called "Tree
Trails" (available in the lobby of Reynolds Alumni Center).
Nine native Missouri oaks are neatly labeled, along with an imposing
English oak behind Jesse Hall. Then go to the woods for the real
thing. The Missouri Department of Conservation also has a free
booklet on trees. White oaks are the biggest and oldest oaks in
these parts, and produce the most valuable hardwood in Missouri
and the United States. Huge-leaved, fire-resistant bur oaks grew
in prairie savannas. These oaks resist fire because of thick bark,
rot-resistance after scarring, and the ability of acorns to germinate
well in burned soil. The state's largest bur oak, 89 inches in
diameter, is located near McBaine, down Route K from Columbia.
Oak acorns are essential in the diets of squirrels, raccoons,
quail, turkey and deer. Real oak aficionados will find it helpful
to divide oaks into white oak and red oak groups: that will make
leaves and acorns easier to tell apart. And advanced buffs should
think about the mechanics of forest succession: will an oak forest
always be an oak forest? It happens that we live in an age of
oaks. Oaks now dominate because they resisted fire for millennia,
and were primed to take over when settlement came, fire was suppressed,
and forests cut. The oak closed in to form forests, but some future
mid-Missouri forests may be taken over by sugar maple. Oaks will
still dominate harsher sites, however.
BALD EAGLE
Your chance to see bald eagles comes in late fall and winter at
Eagle Bluffs Conservation Area, along the Missouri River six miles
southwest of Columbia. Birdwatching can be brutally difficult,
but if you keep your eyes on the sky you can't miss the seven-foot
eagle wingspan (compared to wingspans of about four feet for hawks).
Young balds may look like golden eagles, lacking white head feathers--those
come at age four or five. Though several bald eagles are year-round
Eagle Bluffs residents, in December about 10-12 will congregate
from parts unknown, and what they find at Eagle Bluffs is unfrozen
ponds and rivers and a supply of fish carcasses. Truth be told,
our national bird is more scavenger than classic bird of prey,
though waterfowl and small mammals are at-risk. Recently, breeding
pairs have nested high in trees in prominent assemblages of sticks,
but without success. Possibly they were young birds still learning
parenting skills. An outing to see bald eagles is a good excuse
to see the rest of Eagle Bluffs. It's much more spectacular if
you bring binoculars or a spotting scope. Some ducks migrate through
during the first couple weeks of November, others winter over-it
all depends on the weather. In the adjacent bottomland forest,
look for turkeys, deer, or loud, huge, hammerheaded pileated woodpeckers.
Lucky visitors could see a peregrine falcon, white pelicans, or
see and hear a trumpeter swan or two. The bald eagle made national
headlines this summer when its recovery during the last several
decades was considered successful enough for removal from the
Endangered Species List. It is still strictly protected by other
laws. If you need your fix of large raptors right away, any trip
to Columbia's Grindstone or Capen parks will offer turkey vultures.
AMERICAN SYCAMORE
You know you're got a heck of a tree when it can be identified
with aerial photographs. From above, the peeling white bark of
large American sycamores marks the course of streams and rivers
in Missouri. They make good urban trees, too, growing fast and
not minding dirty air. Older sycamores are often hollow, and make
great dens for raccoons or squirrels. Occasionally for humans,
too: according to Flora of West Virginia, two gentlemen
named John and Samuel Pringle lived in a hollow sycamore in that
state from 1764 to 1768. Whether they shared the tree with other
small mammals is not known. The sycamore is one of the largest
eastern trees, and the record Missouri sycamore is a whopping
7 1/2 feet in diameter. Golf-ball-sized fruits hang on sycamores
through winter, dropping seeds in spring that disperse by water
and wind. You can see sycamores throughout Boone County, wherever
there's flowing water.
OPOSSUM
Perhaps it's the long, rat-like tail or narrow snout, but the
shambling opossum could use more admirers. Possums have more qualities
than first meet the eye, such as a stomach pouch in which females
raise pea-sized young for two months, dexterous hands and feet
with opposable toes, and a versatile tail that can wrap around
a branch for hang-time, store body fat in winter, or carry leaves
for den bedding. And who could not applaud possum playacting?
Possums will sometimes feign death when under attack, at the same
time emitting unpleasant and discouraging liquids for the attacker
to contemplate. But don't approach them to test this: possums
can also decide to play fierce, growling and biting hard. With
their nocturnal, omnivorous ways, possums thrive in cities as
well as woods. Adaptability is the key: crickets, lizards, fruit,
eggs, dead animals, are all fair meal for a possum. Crossing streets
and country roads pose problems, however. You don't need to collect
roadkill statistics to know that possums have not adapted to automobiles.
BIG BLUESTEM
Big bluestem is the marquee species of the tallgrass prairie.
So many pioneer accounts refer to bluestem-dominated prairie as
a "sea of grass" that it has become a cliche. Big bluestem
grows three to six feet high, sometimes nine. Bluestem roots descend
at least as far, allowing it (as well as other prairie grasses)
to withstand drought, fire and grazing. In pre-1800 Missouri,
tallgrass grew north of a line drawn from Springfield to Columbia
to St. Louis. Tallgrass prairie soils are so rich that they precisely
coincide with the best farmland in the world. Nowadays big bluestem
is seen occasionally along roadsides, fencelines or train tracks,
and in restored and virgin prairies. Locally, look for it at MU's
Tucker Prairie, 20 miles east of Columbia on Interstate 70, or
in two rest areas along I-70 near Boonville. The best clue to
identification is big bluestem's nickname, turkey foot, which
is the shape of the seed head. And stems indeed turn bluish or
purple. Big bluestem mainly spreads by underground stems, only
rarely by reseeding: it is said that some prairie botanists have
never seen a bluestem seedling. In other words, many neighboring
plants are clones with identical DNA, just as aspen trees in a
forest tend to be clones. Big bluestem makes superb hay and is
being rediscovered for raising livestock. Footnote: the best-preserved
tallgrass prairie is in the Flint Hills of Kansas, about a five-hour
drive from Columbia.
TURTLES
Missouri drivers know how hard it is to avoid turtles crossing
roads and highways every June. It's turtle wanderlust with a reason:
female box, painted and snapping turtles are on a single-minded
quest for well-drained sites to lay their eggs. By now most eggs
have hatched, and the young have completed their mission back
to their mothers' home ponds, though some hatchlings may remain
in the underground nest and emerge in spring. The hatchlings home
in on the mother's pond by a combination of techniques, though
this is not well-understood. Perhaps they use polarized light
as a compass, or follow chemical cues. The menfolk, meanwhile,
await the day hormones kick in that will send them on the move
in search of mates. That is happening now, so driver beware. Both
drivers and turtles would appreciate "toad tunnels"
to funnel them under roads. They're popular in England and parts
of California and New England, but Missouri has none. Turtles
are eclectic gourmets: pond turtles eat aquatic plants, snails,
crayfish, insects, sometimes fish. The terrestrial box turtles
prefer insects, earthworms, berries, and plant shoots. As winter
approaches, the turtles can no longer maintain their body heat,
so they do the sensible thing and hunker down, metabolism slowed
way down, absorbing through their cloaca the small amount of oxygen
they need. Box turtles burrow into moist, loose soil to spend
the winter, while pond species such as painted and snapping turtles
like to bunch up under tree root masses where there is some moving
water to provide them oxygen. The females store sperm from fall
mating until they ovulate the following spring. An excellent guide,
"Missouri's Turtles," is available for free from the
Missouri Department of Conservation.