Geek out with me about critters and plants on a mountaintop in Virginia. I’ll share what I’m learning as I try to bring native plants back on 200 acres of old farmland and tell stories from my encounters on the mountain.

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In this issue

• Field notes: Late bloomers & old nemeses

• Signs of life: Caterpillars in a hurry & hidden volunteers

• Recommended reading

• Book news: Aldo Leopold Foundation and more

• The Official Mountain Poodle

Field notes

Late bloomers

The first time I was on the mountain, in mid-August of 2020, the yellow crownbeard was in full bloom, and the mountaintop was a field of yellow as far as I could see. This year, the first blossoms did not begin to open until September 7, at least 3 weeks later than that first visit. The crownbeard’s flowering time-frame has pushed later each year. Goldenrod is also blooming now, so the meadow is a riot of yellow.

I wonder how the late blooming of a flower that is dominant in the meadow impacts the bumble bees that are searching for food in the heat of mid-August? Before the crownbeard flowered, the bees were all over the native field thistle that dots the meadow; the thistle has increased in abundance over the past few years.

Old nemeses return

I’m distressed to say that, after appearing somewhat more contained last year, mile-a-minute vine has spread itself out to an alarming degree, popping up in new places that are disconnected from the fields where I was monitoring it last year. It’s tough to stop this vine in a large meadow unless you mow everything, watch for it to come up, and then spot-treat it at least twice during the growing season. We spot-treated in one field, and I think we prevented it from getting out of hand there. But in two other fields, large patches of last year’s vine had died and covered everything in a rusty brown blanket. That meant that in May and June the new vines sprouted invisibly below last year’s dead vine, and they were impossible to find. By the time they were tall enough to be seen, spot spraying was impossible. In those fields, the vine now covers a widening circle.

I’m working on two potential approaches that I hope will keep the vine at bay and make it possible to see it and spot-spray it when it returns next spring (which it will—its seeds stay viable for years). One big step is prescribed fire, which looks like it will happen here later this fall, after years of waiting, and the other is livestock browsing—sheep and goats!—which I’m excited to try for the first time. Those of you who know me will know that I have been wanting to try using animals to chow down on invasive plants here for years. I’ve been interested in raising sheep ever since I was a junior farmer which was, oh, nearly 50 years ago. These animals aren’t mine, but it’s a chance to experience them even for a short time, and I’ll take it. The animals will rotate through the three fields where mile-a-minute is most problematic. Two of those fields will be burned in November as part of a larger burn area. Depending on how this experiment goes, I could bring the animals back in spring instead of spot-spraying. Stay tuned for sheep and goat updates in next month’s newsletter!

Stiltgrass is growing prolifically this year, especially along the gravel road and at the edges of the fields. I recently spent a couple of hours clearing it from around a cattle gate. It seemed like I’d turned my attention away for a week or two, and the stiltgrass was suddenly taller than the gate.

I’m seeing an aggressive native vine this year that I’ve never noticed before—it’s called climbing false buckwheat, and it’s wending its way over blackberry and dog bane throughout the field. Since it’s native, I’m not going to worry too much about it—that means it has local predators, which should keep it in check. And I’ve got enough on my plate!

I’m guessing that the increased growth of both undesirable and desirable plants has been driven by the frequent torrential, gravel-road-ruinous rains that came throughout the summer. Rain is good, but that much rain is a double-edged sword.

Signs of life

Caterpillars are quick

I’ve watched these little critters cross our stone paths for a few weeks now, and they are surprisingly speedy. This one is probably a yellow woolly bear, or spilosoma virginica. Those hairs might look enticing, but they’re meant as a deterrent. They release toxins that are skin irritants. Don’t pet the caterpillar! It reminds me that when I was a kid, I had a run-in with a cactus. It was the kind of cactus whose spines look soft and fuzzy, until you do what I did and pick it up. Thirty-five little spines stuck in my palm. Luckily, my mother carried tweezers in her handbag.

The woolly bear caterpillar comes in a few colors, the most familiar being the one with black bands at each end and a brown band in the middle. When it’s all grown up, it becomes the Isabella tiger moth. These moths are drawn to asters, which explains why they’re so abundant in the meadow here. Crownbeard is in the aster family, as are daisy fleabane and several other plants that grow here in abundance. But not every brown or yellow or black fuzzy caterpillar is a woolly bear, so I like to ask iNaturalist for ID help.

We’re now in the waning days of the spotted lanternfly invasion, which means the stinkbugs are on the rise. The windows of my house are freckled with them, which is bearable as long as they stay outside. But they want to come in to be where it’s warm for the winter. (If that happens, I suggest a hand vac, one that you don’t mind getting permanently stinky.) I just told my husband that rather than winter, spring, etc., we have five seasons here: mice, ticks, lanternflies, stinkbugs, and ladybugs.

If you encountered lanternflies around your house, once they’re gone, look for their egg cases on your siding and windows. See the small “dirt patch” in the upper left quadrant of this photo? That’s a classic egg case. And by the way this photo is also proof that cedar does not repel all insects, certainly not lanternflies or stinkbugs (bottom left), or, apparently, woolly bears.

I often wonder how native insects react to the masses of lanternflies and stinkbugs. Do they try to avoid them? Do they change their diets (if they’re generalists) or eat less, or do their reproductive schedules change? Someone must be studying this stuff, right?

This morning, the mountain was covered in dense fog. When I stepped outside, the patio was covered with harvestmen—the creature we think of as daddy long legs. I guess a damp, cool, foggy morning is a good time for hunting and hanging out. The harvestman is an arachnid, but it is not a spider. Unlike spiders, they eat their food in particles, rather than sucking out the liquefied insides of their prey. Dainty! They don’t make webs or produce venom, although apparently they can secrete a defensive odor. Harvestmen will often gather in large numbers, possibly for protection—crowding makes the odor more intense. They’re hunters and scavengers, and some species are omnivorous, eating plant material and fungi.

Native plant “volunteers”

I didn’t plant anything in the meadow, so everything that comes up, technically, is a volunteer. But the little fenced area for my dog near the house is a different story. That area was excavated and overrun by vehicles during construction, and now the yard is overrun with goosegrass and other weeds. We planted a seed mix in spring, but it didn’t seem to take. So when I was cutting and pulling weeds there, I was especially pleased to find two native plants holding their own : witchgrass (panicum capillare) and tick trefoil (I think it’s panicled leaf, or desmodium paniculatum). If I were using a brush cutter instead of doing the cutting by hand, I might not have spotted these two plants hidden amid the tall weeds, which is an argument for paying close attention to what you’re cutting.

Recommended Reading

I recently read The Keep: Living with the Tame and the Wild on a Mountainside Farm by Priscilla and Henry Ireys, about life on a farm in West Virginia. The authors are a married couple, and they narrate different sections of the book in short essays. Priscilla’s narrative often centers around the animals on the farm, especially the goats she raises. I’d always been more focused on sheep, but I came out of this book newly curious about goats. Henry’s narrative includes his observations in nature around the farm and in the forest. Sometimes a single event is described from each author’s perspective, and it’s fascinating to see how different two versions of that experience can be. Full disclosure: I will be appearing in conversation with Priscilla and Henry at New Dominion bookstore on Oct. 4 (info below)!

Book news

Earlier this month, I was thrilled to get a chance to speak as part of the Aldo Leopold Foundation’s Land Ethic Live! series. I was in conversation with the Foundation’s programs manager Jennifer Sterling. We talked about how to start getting to know the natural world where you live and the meaning of land stewardship, among many other topics. You can listen to the recorded conversation here. (It’s free, but registration is required.)

Bad Naturalist in the wild!

Many thanks to my friend Susan for sending me a photo of BAD NATURALIST featured in the storefront window of Politics & Prose bookstore in Washington, DC, and to my cousin Paul for the photo of my book newly arrived at Rancho Mirage Library in California.

Upcoming Events

If you’re in the area, come out and say hello! Or tune into a remote event!

New Dominion Bookshop, in conversation with Priscilla and Henry Ireys about their new book of essays, The Keep: Living with the Tame and the Wild on a Mountainside Farm. Charlottesville, VA. Saturday, October 4, 7pm.

Blue Ridge Prism, “Reintroducing Prescribed Fire: Managing Invasive Plants with Controlled Burns.” I’m joining Jean Lorber of The Nature Conservancy and Adam Coates of Virginia Tech’s Dept. of Forest Resources and Environmental Conservation on a panel where I’ll provide my perspective as a landowner. This is a free webinar; registration required. October 15, 11:30am-1pm EST

Green Spring Gardens, in-person talk and Q&A followed by book signing. Alexandria, VA. Saturday, October 25, 11am.

Check my website event page, or my Instagram or Bluesky feeds for details about events, and for more interviews, podcasts, and features. If you don’t see your city or town on this list, please reach out, and I’ll see what I can do to get there!

Bad Naturalist is available wherever books are sold in stores and online, in hardcover, e-book, and audiobook formats. You can sample the audiobook here.

A special request

If you read the book in any format (and if you enjoyed it!), please post a review on the Amazon book page! It helps!

Tell me where you are and what you see this month in a park near where you live, or in your own yard or window box. Send me a photo if you like.

And don’t forget to tell me about your favorite nature-related book or podcast.

The Official Mountain Poodle

This is what happens when I call her to come inside and she doesn’t feel like it. She stares at me like I’ve told her I’m going to trim her toenails.

Now’s a good time to subscribe for more mountain discoveries, book news, and the requisite poodle photos.

Thanks for joining me on the mountain!

Until next month—

Paula W.

P.S. The cover photo this month is giant goldenrod—at least I think that’s what it is. I have a hard time differentiating the various goldenrods…

Bad Naturalist: One Woman’s Ecological Education on a Wild Virginia Mountaintop

Now available in hardcover, audiobook, and e-book everywhere books are sold!

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