The Rare Ones

Minnesota's uncommon flora, fauna, and geological features hold their ground in scattered places.

Honoring thirty years of Department of Natural Resources Scientific and Natural Areas Program.

By Greg Breining
Photography by John Gregor

The names of some—Lost Valley Prairie, Lost Lake Peatland, Lost River Peatland, Lost 40—suggest that Minnesota's scientific and natural areas are isolated, remote, secret.

The Lost 40 SNA, a tract of old-growth pine forest in northern Minnesota, was spared the logger's saw because a surveyor overlooked it in 1882. Lost Lake Peatland SNA, Lost River Peatland SNA, and other peatlands were too inaccessible and too waterlogged to attract developers.

If land can be stubborn, then that is what some of these preserves are. In summer, the 6-acre Osmundson Prairie SNA near the Iowa border waves banners of Indiangrass and big bluestem at the surrounding formations of corn and soybeans.

For better or worse, most of these places remain relatively unknown. Unlike state parks, SNAs are tucked away in what Bob Djupstrom, supervisor of the Department of Natural Resources Scientific and Natural Areas Program, calls the "wild back yard of all Minnesotans."

The program that protects these parcels of Minnesota's wild heritage turns 30 this year. While SNAs are little known, little appreciated, and little visited, that doesn't mean they are of little worth. Indeed, they are priceless jewels.

Crane Island.

Minnesota's first SNA was Rush Lake Island in Chisago County, a 21-acre sliver of land known locally as Crane Island. The tops of the tallest trees are festooned with bundles of sticks-as many as 500 haphazard nests of great blue herons. In the 1960s, just before plans to build houses threatened the tranquility of the island, the Legislature authorized the DNR commissioner to set up a program protecting wild places of scientific and natural merit. In 1973 an advisory committee began recommending potential sites. In 1974 Rush Lake Island became the first SNA.

Since then, the system has grown to 138 units totaling 184,000 acres (including 146,000 acres of remote northern peatlands, which the Legislature added through the Wetland Conservation Act in 1991). The purpose of the system, according to the SNA program policy statement: "preserve and perpetuate the ecological diversity of Minnesota's natural heritage, including landforms, fossil remains, plant and animal communities, rare and endangered species, or other biotic features and geological formations, for scientific study and public edification as components of a healthy environment."

More concisely, according to regional SNA specialist Steve Wilson, SNAs protect "the best of the best."

Prairie Parcels.

Many SNAs protect plant communities found on remnants of the tallgrass prairies that once covered a third of Minnesota. Plowed, drained, and farmed, the prairie is now the rarest of the state's broad ecological communities.

Most of these SNA prairies are small. But not Pembina Trail Preserve SNA, an SNA near Crookston in northwestern Minnesota, owned by both the DNR and The Nature Conservancy. You can walk for two miles across nearly 2,400 acres of native grasses and flowers (including the rare western prairie fringed-orchid), with scattered patches of brush and aspen. Adjacent agricultural land contributes to the impression of never-ending prairie and increases the value of Pembina Trail Preserve SNA to grassland wildlife such as prairie chickens and sandhill cranes.

Prairie Coteau SNA is the "grandest in the whole southwest," in Djupstrom's opinion. It is named for the "highland of the prairies," a perceptible rise of the landscape as you head west up the long ramp toward the Rockies. Joseph Nicollet, leader of government expeditions in 1838 and 1839, observed: "I pity the man whose soul could be unmoved under such a scene of excitement." Today the horizon is interrupted by nearby wind towers. Nonetheless, the 410 acres of prairie on the rolling terrain is impressive, with more than 200 species of wildflowers and rare species of butterflies.

In the southeast, Mound Prairie SNA is a prairie set on edge. A heart-pounding climb up the side of one of the southwest-facing goat prairies affords a high overlook of the Root River valley, where it is easy to imagine Dakota Indians surveying the valley for game—or for intruding Sauk Indians. Today you can look a passing eagle in the eye. You may even spot jeweled shooting stars among the crags.

Hidden Treasure.

Scarce plants are not confined to the prairies. Zumbro Falls Woods SNA, 300 acres along the swift-running Zumbro River, protects old-growth oaks and other hardwoods, which were logged most everywhere else. The big trees shade woodland wildflowers, mosses, liverworts, and ferns.

Not all rare species are plants. On Pine and Curry Island SNA, for example, the state-endangered piping plover nests on a spit of ice-buffeted and surf-washed sand.

Some SNAs have survived intact because they are so far off the beaten track. Such is surely the case with northern peatlands, including Black Lake Bog (which straddles the Wisconsin border to create our only bistate SNA), Lost Lake Peatland SNA, Lost River Peatland SNA, and Red Lake Peatland, the state's largest SNA at more than 84,000 acres. Stretching mile upon mile without development, settlement, or even visitors, peatlands may be Minnesota's truest wilderness.

"Walking in the peatlands when they aren't frozen is probably akin to using an elliptical trainer on Jupiter—big steps required while an otherworldly force pulls down on your legs," reports SNA specialist Wilson. "These warm-season journeys into peatland SNAs are worth it, though, because nowhere else in Minnesota have I experienced such a sense of wildness and solitude."

Some SNAs are special because the landscape they protect is so unexpected. A prime example is Gneiss Outcrops SNA in southwestern Minnesota, where exposed 3.6-billion-year-old gneiss, the oldest rock in Minnesota, forms a rock-rimmed lake—reminiscent of a scene in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness, except for the prickly pear and the brittle cactus.

Candidate Sites.

Many candidate sites for the SNA program are identified through the Minnesota County Biological Survey of native plant and animal communities. The 15-member DNR Commissioner's Advisory Committee on SNAs then evaluates potential SNAs. Do they harbor species or communities that are rare or endangered? Do they require management and at what cost?

The DNR buys land for SNAs from willing private sellers. Some of the most important acquisitions are donations from private landowners.

Wood-Rill SNA, just west of the Twin Cities, comprises a forest of giant oak, basswood, green ash, and sugar maple up to 400 years old. Most of the 150-acre site was donated by Ruth and Bruce Dayton. At Lutsen SNA on the North Shore of Lake Superior, Lloyd Scherer donated 240 acres in the heart of the SNA, protecting old-growth trees from rapid development in one of Minnesota's most beloved vacation areas.

Perpetual Disturbance.

Purchasing land alone may not protect some natural communities. It is often necessary to reintroduce and perpetuate fire disturbance with controlled burns in communities such as prairies and oak savannas that evolved with wildfire. Sometimes invading exotic species such as buckthorn must be removed to protect rare native plants.

Ellen Fuge, SNA management supervisor, remembers when Lost Valley Prairie SNA was acquired about 10 years ago. Corn and soybeans surrounded knobs of prairie. "We started clearing brush, and then we were able to do some burning throughout the years. We were able to do some reconstruction of the farm fields between the prairie knobs. Now you can stand out on any of those knobs and see grassland rolling over these fields. I never thought we would get to that point. We have more work to do out there, but that was really satisfying."

SNAs serve many uses. Some visitors seek them out to admire wildflowers, search for rare plants, or watch for unusual birds. (SNAs are closed to gathering plants and animals, camping, and motorized vehicles.) Scientists use SNAs for research. For example, Boot Lake SNA has hosted a long-term study of the effects of deer browsing on young trees, shrubs, and ground cover. Wood-Rill SNA is the site of a study of the effects of earthworms on the duff layer and understory plants.

SNAs are educational. At Hastings Senior High School, advanced biology classes use two SNAs as outdoor labs. Dakota County Technical College, Normandale Community College, and the University of Minnesota all offer classes with fieldwork on SNAs. SNAs have hosted most of the state's annual Prairie Day celebrations.

Need to Grow.

New SNAs continue to be added. Recent acquisitions include Mound Springs Prairie SNA along the South Dakota border, which has a calcareous fen. Quarry Park SNA near St. Cloud has a granite bedrock outcrop community with a mix of wet meadow, wet prairie, and oak woodland. Iona's Beach SNA, 1,000 feet along Lake Superior, rings like bells when waves retreat through the rhyolite cobbles.

The program still needs to grow, Djupstrom says. The long-range goal: to protect five rare plant communities and three locations of each rare plant and animals species and geological feature in each subsection of the three biomes—prairie, deciduous woods, and coniferous woods. By protecting several sites, the state avoids putting all of its ecological eggs in one basket. Djupstrom estimates that 500 sites—more than triple the current number—will be needed to accomplish this goal.

These aims are pressing, Djupstrom says, because "the landscape is changing so rapidly" as homes, vacation houses, and commercial property proliferate.

Another cause for urgency: the likelihood of climate change. The implications for SNAs are "astronomical," Djupstrom says. If changes in temperature and moisture are significant, plant communities such as maple-basswood forests could die out, Djupstrom says. "If we haven't protected some of these across the full range, we could lose them altogether."

Against the Tide.

The late writer Paul Gruchow was a huge champion of SNAs. He served on the program's advisory committee and wrote a series of essays on SNAs for Minnesota Conservation Volunteer that became the book Worlds Within a World. In The Necessity of Empty Places, a philosophical travelogue that stretched from southern Minnesota to the Rockies, Gruchow wrote: "As we have drained the swamps and marshes, leveled the forests, farmed the prairies, . . . we have done something more pervasive than simply destroying a multitude of local habitats. Not only have we undermined the framework for biological diversity, but we have . . . substituted look-alike ecosystems for regionally distinctive ones."

Gone are the woodland caribou while white-tailed deer roam the state border to border. Canada geese graze on lawns and golf courses carved out of the coniferous forest, deciduous woods, and tallgrass prairie. Such species, however desirable, have become the Subways and Wal-Marts of a homogenized world.

But in scientific and natural areas, Minnesotans have established a small refuge against this tide, where things of rarity and distinctiveness survive.

Constant and Surprising. Paul Gruchow recognized scientific and natural areas for what they are: worlds within a world. Here, in memory of this devoted naturalist, who died Feb. 22, 2004, is a selection of words on SNAs from his book Worlds Within a World. Ripley Esker SNA The esker, though only 60 feet high at its greatest elevation, functions like a mountain range, dividing the forest from the prairie with almost surgical precision. To walk the ridge is to wander simultaneously in two worlds. . . . I stood there between the north woods and the prairie, between winter and spring, between day and night, glad to be alive in so various a world and to be present at the twenty thousandth turning of the seasons in that constant and surprising place. Townsend Woods SNA When nothing remained of the snake but a little scrap of belly skin, the chipmunk fastidiously cleaned its paws and jowls and, its toilet completed, disappeared into its den in the tree roots, no doubt to sleep off its orgy. When I got home, I looked up eastern chipmunks in Evan B. Hazard's The Mammals of Minnesota. They are known, I read, to take small bullfrogs, red-bellied snakes, robins, juncos. . . . "Chipmunks are a source of much enjoyment, though people often have an unrealistically benign image of the personalities of these aggressive, often antisocial rodents." There it was, another illusion shattered. When I thought about it, I realized that that is one of the reasons I find myself mesmerized by the natural world. Whenever you are tempted to make something treacly of it, nature conspires to show to you its tart reality. Nature is not, as it is so often represented, an escape from anything, but a bracing call to realism. Kellogg-Weaver Dunes SNA Not until we stopped and got down on our hands and knees to examine something else did the fameflower reveal its presence. . . . The rough-seeded fameflower was not blooming when we saw it, but we could hardly have expected it to, since it was still morning. Its odd habit is to bloom only between 3 and 6 in the afternoon, provided the sun is shining. . . . Presumably its blooming time suits the habits of its pollinators, discourages the advances of unwelcome suitors, or in some other way serves its interests; but what the particulars are, nobody knows. While science flourishes at the theoretical level, and technology razzles and dazzles, a billion details remain to be learned about basic natural history work for inquisitive amateurs everywhere. Gneiss Outcrops SNA As I sat on a ledge above the lake one late spring day, watching the shadows of evening gather and basking in the improbable serenity of the place, a world within a world, an ancient snapping turtle-looking dinosaurian in its craggy carapace-swam into view. It paused below me, stretched its long neck until its snout pierced the surface of the lake, and took a deep, silent breath. The turtle swam on and out of view at a regal pace. A slight evening breeze rippled the waters in its delicate wake. In the distance a small engine roared to life and I started, as if I had drifted off in one century and awakened in the next.

Worlds Within a World and A Guide to Minnesota's Scientific and Natural Areas are available by calling 800-657-3757, or visit www.minnesotasbookstore.com. For more information on SNAs, visit Minnesota DNR - SNAs. To volunteer to collect native seeds, plant seedlings, and do other work on SNAs, call 651-259-5249.

Greg Breining is a freelance writer in St. Paul. Reach him at breining@aol.com.