According to the reading I've done, restoring prairie is very much an art. In fact, it's as much or more of an art than it is a science. For example, the steps you should take depend, first of all, on whether you are starting with a plowed field or an overgrazed pasture. Even with that determined, the process is highly experimental. After all, for over a century we've been far more concerned with breaking up prairie lands, to plant crops, than we've been concerned with restoring agricultural lands to prairie.
It's almost always easier to destroy something than it is to create it...or to re-create it.
Therefore, even the very first step of restoration was in doubt when I decided I wanted to try to return tallgrass prairie to our 10 acre "homestead", with its 5 acres of overgrazed pasture. Should I plow up the existing vegetation and/or use Roundup to kill it all off before planting prairie seeds? The seed I used would supposedly establish more readily that way. Or should I try to overseed into the existing vegetation?
"Following my gut" (to quote Gibbs on NCIS), I started the next year with a spring burn. I reasoned that it wouldn't hurt and it might help me see if there were other, more desirable, plants being hidden by their assertive neighbors. It took us two tries, but we did get the Back Five burned that second spring. Over the summer I watched it carefully to see what showed up. Fresh growth took several weeks to begin emerging, as that spring turned out to be cold and dry, but eventually the temperatures started to rise and the rains to fall.
What a difference a burn makes! Oh, there was still a lot of "garbage" vegetation, but I also found white prairie clover, a couple lead plants, wild alfalfa, dotted gayfeather, and (best of all) FIVE spring ladies' tresses. There was no way that I was going to plow up or Roundup that 5 acres!
The poverty grass has become a much smaller component of the flora in the last 7 years. Whereas it used to be impossible to walk through the Back Five without getting many of its painful seeds in my socks, these days I have to search the area for a while to find any obvious stands of it.
There are swaths of tall dropseed now and well established patches of side-oats grama. The dotted gayfeather has spread from a scant dozen plants in one, well confined area to dozens of plants, scattered in several large, beautiful patches throughout the Back Five. Whorled milkweed has started to form graceful colonies from single plants that were easy to overlook at first.
Compass plants have shown up, as well. While I scattered some seed four or five years ago, several of the first plants that I noticed, a year or two later, were already large enough that I suspect they were actually holdovers which had survived the many years of pasturage. Now there are a couple dozen compass plants; 6 of them put up flower spikes this year.
Bug Guide to see which cicada species this individual actually represented. Some insects I seem to be able to identify without too much trouble. Others, like cicadas, I have yet to learn enough about to reliably name. Every other large cicada image I've sent in to Bug Guide has turned out to be Tibicen auriferus, the Plains Dog-Day Cicada, in one color variant or another. This one didn't look like that, but I'd been fooled before.
This morning I received my answer from the Entomology Gods: my large cicada is a Bush Cicada, Tibicen dorsatus.
Why am I doing a happy dance? Why does it matter to me which species of cicada this is?
Well, I'm probably over-reacting here, but on the Bug Guide information page about the Bush Cicada, it states, "A beautiful species that now exists in scattered isolates across much of its former range. Although listed as "secure" (i.e. "not threatened/endangered"), many
populations, particularly those isolated in more developed areas, should
be monitored and conserved." I take that to mean that the species is on the decline, overall, and my little 5 acres of restoring prairie may be helping it to maintain a slightly healthier population.
Helping a potentially declining species to retain a healthier population is one of the big reasons why I garden, and definitely why I garden the way I do. In a nutshell. Or in a cicada cast, as the case may be.
Oh, my Bush Cicada? Another common name for it is Splendid Prairie Cicada...and I think that's a perfectly splendid name.