Refuge Notebook
Article
Dated
July 19, 2002
Emerald Lake shows beautiful flowers, a variety of insects, and hints of climate change
by Ed Berg
As I reported last week, we recently completed a six-day field
study of the Refuge’s southern extremity in the mountains of Kachemak
Bay. Collecting the plants and insects was an important part of our
mission, as well as inventorying the wildlife. We have been wanting to
upgrade our modest plant collection at the Refuge headquarters, and this
seemed like the perfect opportunity. In six days of collecting at Emerald
Lake above Grewingk Glacier we filled four plant presses with dozens of
species, with Pam Russell and Candy Cartwright focusing on the flowering
plants, while I worked on the mosses and lichens.
Spring was a bit late when we arrived in the last week of
June, and I was at first worried that we had arrived a week or two
prematurely before the peak of flowering. False hellebore spikes were
less than a foot tall, and fireweed shoots were mostly in the early red
stage and only 3 inches tall. Nevertheless, on sunny sites salmonberries,
blueberries, and nagoonberries were in full bloom and promised bountiful
picking in late July and August. Mountain marigolds were in bloom along
every streamlet, even those with residual snow banks. We saw lots of
yellow violets, as well as purple Alaska violets. Indian paintbrush was
in flower, as were wooly louseworts and yellow buttercups of various
kinds. Burnett was probably the most common herbaceous plant, although it
was not yet in flower.
The prize flower – found by Candy Cartwright on a gravelly
moraine – was a small primrose Douglasia (Androsace) alaskana. I had
never seen anything like this in more than 20 years of plant picking on
the Kenai and it definitely had me stumped. It had a tight central clump
of hairy leaves about an inch tall, and eight wire-like 3-inch stems
arcing out of the central clump. Each stem had a single seed head at its
tip; the petals were long gone so we couldn’t tell their color. When we
returned to the lab Candy keyed the plant out with Hulten’s Flora of
Alaska and sure enough, there it was on page 746. This is a showy little
guy that would look good in a rock garden, and Candy plans to try to
germinate some of the many tiny seeds.
I collected dozens of mosses and lichens – enough to keep my
evenings busy for a good part of the winter. There are lots of crustose
lichens on the rocks up in the mountains, which I collect with a hammer
and cold chisel. Many boulders were encrusted with bright patches of the
yellow-and-black Rhizocarpon lichen. Glacial geologists use this lichen
to estimate the minimum number of years that a rock surface has been
exposed after a glacier has retreated. In Kachemak Bay, for example,
circular patches of Rhizocarpon grow at a slow but steady rate, taking
about 3 years to add one millimeter of diameter. At this rate a patch the
size of quarter represents about 60 – 70 years of growth. The largest
patches I saw were two inches (50 millimeters) in diameter, indicating
that the ice had pulled back from the Emerald lake valley at least 150
years ago. (For a picture of Rhizocarpon see http://www.lichen.com/bigpix/Rgeographicum.html).
The pit traps that we deployed for catching voles and shrews
turned out to be much more effective for catching ground beetles. We
brought along our insect collecting bottles and nets, and caught quite a
few beetles in the 15-inch deep funnel-shaped pit traps, that were set
flush with the ground surface. We used our nets to sweep the bushes and
flowers, and quickly collected a great variety of midges, flies, moths,
and butterflies. This winter we will make preliminary identifications of
the insects and then send them off to be verified and archived at the
University of Alaska Museum in Fairbanks.
One of my interests in collecting insects is to begin building
a baseline inventory of common species for monitoring climate change.
Beetles for example are very good thermometers. Each beetle species has
its preferred range of temperature. If you look at 20 or 30 species in an
area, you will see a range of several degrees where they all overlap.
Beetle paleontologists and archeologists use this method to estimate the
growing season temperature in deposits thousands of years old. In the
case at hand I want to track changes in the kinds and numbers of insects
as the climate of the Kenai Peninsula warms and dries in future years.
To look at climate change that has already taken place, I
cored several big Sitka spruce trees above Emerald Lake. About 50% of the
relatively few spruce trees up here are dead from spruce bark beetles,
especially the larger trees. I was able to use my increment borer (a
threaded tube) to extract wood core samples from trees as large as 28
inches in diameter. These trees were all growing at treeline, but the
younger trees were growing especially vigorously with wide rings. This
indicates that they could be growing higher; they are not growing at their
limit of stress or at “physiological treeline.” I have seen this pattern
at other treeline spruce sites around the Kenai Peninsula, and it
indicates that treeline is rising, and indeed has been rising for more
than 100 years.
Our tree-ring studies with mountain hemlocks at treeline
indicate that summers on the Kenai have generally been warming since the
1810s. Furthermore, I have never seen a cohort of dead trees at treeline
on the Kenai, which would indicate that a cold period had pushed treeline
back down. We have had brief cold periods in the last two centuries, but
they apparently have never been cold enough to reverse the general rise of
treeline.
Nevertheless, if the trees are growing well at treeline, why
aren’t they growing higher up than they are presently growing? Is
something limiting their upward mobility? Seed dispersal studies have
shown that most spruce seeds don’t go very far. Despite being wind
dispersed, most seeds fall within a radius equal to the height of the
tree. That is why they are often in clumps – they are growing near their
seed mothers. Climatewise, they could be growing higher, but they stay
close to home. Like a lot of us, they could move up the hill faster, but
after all, what’s the rush – in the grand scheme of things?
Ed Berg has been the ecologist at the Kenai National Wildlife Refuge since 1993.
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