A Mysterious Contact (Letter to the Earth)

Scotts Bluff in northwest Nebraska, viewed from the Wildcat Hills where I recently camped.

It hadn’t been dark long when a loud wailing awoke me. I jumped from the tent before realizing it was just the wind in the ponderosa pines, the noisiest of our pines. Something about the long needles … I was trying to remember … but then it suddenly stopped. Dead silence. How eerily odd. Was it really the wind?

I crawled back into the tent and slept fitfully, dreaming vividly. At one point, I climbed Chimney Rock—improbable enough in itself but even more bizarre, on the summit I met a translucent man jumping up and down waving his arms, gratified to have an audience:

“The surface is here washed out into the form of domes, towers, churches, and fortifications, and it is hardly possible to persuade oneself that the hand of art has not been busy here.”

The dream transitioned seamlessly into reality, as mine often do. I awoke, but the ghostly lecturer continued on, unseen:

“Chimney Rock shoots up its tall, white spire from one hundred to one hundred and fifty feet. The strata are perfectly horizontal, and, therefore, we may infer that the surface of the whole country was originally on a level with the summit at least, and that these landmarks are monuments left after erosion.”

“The most striking examples are in the vicinity of Scottsssshhhhh …”

As the sun rose, the voice faded into silence.

Chimney Rock; horse stands on a bed of volcanic ash (Darton 1903; arrow added).

I got up, grabbed the stove and coffeepot from the car, and headed for the picnic table. There I found a book held open by a rock! Roadside Geology of Nebraska was turned to page 245. The black-and-white photo of Scotts Bluff had been annotated in an old-fashioned hand, and an arrow pointed to the lower part of the rock face: “You must examine carefully this mysterious contact.”


At Scotts Bluff National Monument I was greeted by good news and bad. The trail to the crest passes very close to the mysterious contact, and dogs can go too! But the trail was closed until further notice, due to a large rock slide.

Saddle Rock Trail, lower trailhead; destination is was the more distant rock ridge.

Rock slide across trail. Managers are debating whether to repair the trail or close it permanently (NO!).

We hiked three-quarters of the way up, to the lower barricade, and then drove to the top and hiked down to the upper barricade. In neither case could we examine the mysterious contact carefully. But we were close enough for photos, in fact tantalizingly close … if only … should I? … sigh, no … I’d be in plain view and besides, the staff had been so friendly and helpful.

Trail goes through a tunnel in this rock ridge ...  you can see why I was lusting after this hike!

As the ghostly lecturer had explained, Scotts Bluff is an erosional remnant that was left standing as the North Platte River eroded and carried away surrounding rocks. It's one of several of local remnants curious enough to be named: Dome Rock, Sentinel Rock, Crown Rock, Chimney Rock and more.

Dome Rock, viewed from the top of Scotts Bluff.

Saddle Rock at east end of Scotts Bluff; view from South Overlook.

For travelers on the Oregon Trail—who had endured day after day after day of heat, dust and monotony crossing the Great Plains—these distinctive buttes, bluffs and monuments were a welcome relief. People often paused for a moment before trudging on westward—“in wonder to see such a natural marvel and many remembered it long after their journeys were over” (source).

“The landmarks indicated our progress and helped to break the monotony – like the milestones along the journey of life, there was one less to pass.” —Phoebe G. Judson, near Scotts Bluff, 1853 (from interpretive sign at Scotts Bluff NM)

“Mitchell Pass” (now part of Scotts Bluff NM) by William Henry Jackson, 1866. He was working as a bullwhacker on a wagon train. From Scotts Bluff NM, used with permission.

More than 250,000 hopeful emigrants passed Scotts Bluff between 1843 and 1869!

Rocks in the Scotts Bluff area started as sediments eroded off the Rocky Mountains roughly 35 to 20 million years ago. They were carried down by streams and deposited in a great wedge to the east. In all, there were three major pulses of deposition; rocks from the first and second are exposed at Scotts Bluff. These are the Brule and Gering Formations (geologists assign such names to distinctive rock units).

Oldest to youngest rocks from bottom to top (as we would expect): Brule Formation of the White River Group, and Gering Formation and others of the Arikaree Group.

Time stratigraphic chart; vertical bracket bars show rocks exposed at Scotts Bluff NM; source.

At Scotts Bluff, the Brule Formation is mainly volcaniclastic siltstone, but includes a layer of regular sandstone and siltstone. The Gering is volcaniclastic sandstone. The white layers in both are volcanic ash beds. The darker brown zone is referred to as “oxidized” but I could find no explanation as to how this came to be.

Between the Brule and Gering is where things get interesting—in fact, mysterious. There is an unconformity here—a gap in the rock record of perhaps four million years (source). The Brule episode of deposition ceased, and four million years of erosion (or at least non-deposition) passed before the next pulse of sediments came down from the Rockies. We love unconformities—they’re often easy to see and it’s so cool to be able to read the past from the rocks! And there’s something especially intriguing about this one.

Southeast and downhill from the tunnel, the Brule–Gering unconformity or contact is nicely exposed. Elsewhere in the park it's flat with little relief, but here it’s wavy!

Brule–Gering contact does The Wave.

Brule–Gering contact below tunnel (upper left). Note people on slope (six feet tall); source.

Zooming in on the undulations from the trail across the draw.

How did this wavy surface come to be? In what kind of environment do we find such forms? Are they erosional features of some kind?

Answer: Apparently no one knows. In Roadside Geology of Nebraska, Maher and colleagues offer two alternatives. Maybe the undulations are old erosional features on the Brule surface that were buried by younger Gering sediments. Or maybe Brule sediments moved under the weight of Gering sediments (soft sediment deformation).

Are those also undulations in the white ash layer above?! (click on image to view) Another mystery,

I sat on a wayside bench, reading and rereading, considering the alternatives. I was trying to imagine the two scenarios when a familiar voice reappeared:

“To enable the mind to realize the physical condition of our planet during all these past ages is the highest end to be attained by the study of geological facts. It has been well said by an eloquent historian that he who calls the past back again into being, enjoys a bliss like that of creating.” —Ferdinand Vandeveer Hayden, 1871, Geological Survey of the Territories, Ch. 8 From Omaha to Cheyenne

Ferdinand Vandeveer Hayden, head of the US Geological and Geographical Survey of the Territories (1867-1883); source.

Sources

Hayden, FV. 1871. Preliminary report on the geological survey of Wyoming, and portions of contiguous territories. Washington, Government Printing Office.

Maher, HD, Jr., Egelmann, GF, and Shuster, RD.  2003.  Roadside geology of Nebraska.  Mountain Press Publishing Company.

Swinehart, J. B., and D. B. Loope. 1987. Late Cenozoic geology along the summit to museum hiking trail, Scotts Bluff National Monument, western Nebraska. GSA Centennial Field Guide—North Central Section. pp 13-18. PDF

Professor Rydberg Sends a Map

"I have made a tracing of a map of the park … 

I have tried to copy his routes thereon as well as that of myself and Mr. Bessey"

It’s such a treat to meet and get to know the early pioneering botanists of the American West! Of course it doesn’t happen often. They don’t attend meetings nor visit herbaria, at least not during the light of day. And I can’t just zip off an email explaining my interest in their work. Why? Because, unfortunately, they’ve all been dead for years.

But occasionally they speak to me through some relic—a plant specimen, a field book, a letter. I post about these encounters in my Letter to the Earth series. The most recent was with PA Rydberg, through his map of Yellowstone National Park.

In 1898, Professor Rydberg of Upsala College in Roselle, New Jersey, was preparing a Catalogue of the Flora of Montana and the Yellowstone National Park. He was in frequent correspondence—on the order of one letter per month—with Professor Aven Nelson at the University of Wyoming, who was collecting plants to document the regional flora. It was a wonderful time and place to be a botanist. So many discoveries awaited—first reports of species from the region, and even novelties (species new to science). Nelson and Rydberg discussed at length plant identification and classification, and the validity of various novelties.

Studying Rocky Mountain plants was not easy. The flora was poorly known, there were few treatments (books), and debates over classification raged. Compounding the problem, botanists in the region worked in relative isolation. Communication was slow, travel expensive. They discussed taxonomic problems by letter—hard to imagine given the complexity of the subject.

Discussion could be heated (this hasn’t changed). In this letter to Nelson, Rydberg sarcastically refers to botanist Edward L. Greene as an “expert” who can somehow make taxonomic decisions based on minimal material. Greene had rejected Rydberg's new species, Antennaria microphylla (considered valid today).
Click on image to read.

In the fall of 1898, Nelson notified Rydberg that he would be working in Yellowstone National Park the next summer. In his reply, Rydberg explained what Nelson probably already knew:

“The flora of the park is, however well worked up as several collectors have been in there, viz., the Hayden Survey, C.C. Parry, Letteman, Burglehous, &c. The one that has done the most, however, is Frank Tweedy of the U.S. Geological Survey. He spent two whole summers in the park."

Engineer-turned-botanist Frank Tweedy collected a rush in Yellowstone National Park that Rydberg named in his honor—Juncus tweedyi. Type specimen from the National Museum of Natural History (label enlarged).

Rydberg recommended that Nelson focus on unexplored parts of the Park:

"I would advise you to select the mountains east and south east of Yellowstone Lake. None of the collectors that I know of has collected in that region. Tweedy only touched it at the south end of the Lake.”

The following spring, Rydberg again urged Nelson to work in the southern part of the Park. This time he sent a map.

I felt a rush of excitement when I found Rydberg's map in the University archives. Holding it, it seemed he had sent it to me—maybe because it was hand-drawn, or because he didn't cut the tracing paper straight. Or maybe because he explained exactly how he made it:

“Mr. F. Tweedy has kindly sent me a map, on which he has indicated the routes he has traveled in the Park. I have made a tracing of a map of the park. It is of a small scale and many times smaller than that he sent to me, but I have tried to copy his routes thereon as well as that of myself and Mr. Bessey in 1897.”

Click on image to view.

Rydberg's map and advice were clear and persuasive:

“From that you can see that the park has been gone over fairly well. Add to this the collections made in the Park during the Hayden Surveys, by Parry, Dr. Hall, Miss Compton, and others, it is safe to say that it has already received its good share. The south-east and southwest corners are not well known, however. I should advise you to spend a good deal of time in the region south-east of Yellowstone Lake, if you can do so. Especially do I think that you will find the high mountain range on the east a profitable field.”

Excellent advice, Professor Rydberg, I agree completely. But, alas, I won't be going. The map and advice were for Aven Nelson.

Nelson spent 14 weeks in the Park with his wife, their young daughters, and two student assistants. It was a rare opportunity. Though Yellowstone was already popular with tourists (9579 came in 1899), only the affluent could afford to visit.

L to R: Daughters Helen and Neva, student assistant Leslie Goodding, Mrs. Nelson. In the back of the wagon are stacks of felt blotters and white paper for pressing and drying plants. They carried thousands of sheets.

The Nelson party traveled by horse-drawn wagon, camping out the entire time. In 14 weeks they collected, pressed and dried 30,000 specimens—an astonishing number given the working conditions. But they did not go to the areas recommended by Rydberg.

Nelson left no record as to why. Perhaps it was lack of wagon roads, or because they had lost a student assistant (Elias Nelson stepped into scalding hot mud, burning his leg so badly that he had to be sent home). Perhaps—in fact probably—Nelson wanted to collect as many specimens as possible to add to the herbarium at the University of Wyoming (today's Rocky Mountain Herbarium). Sticking to roads maximized collections.

After the expedition, Rydberg and Nelson continued to correspond on taxonomic issues. But there’s no evidence that they discussed Yellowstone—no questions from Rydberg as to why Nelson collected only in the parts of the Park that had been “gone over fairly well.” For now, the reasons remain a mystery.

Botanists in Paradise—a letter to the Earth

Last week I received a long hand-written letter.  After reading the first few paragraphs, I found myself in a state of shock!  It had been written by Aven Nelson, first botany professor at the University of Wyoming; his wife, Celia Alice; and Leslie Goodding, one of the early botany undergrads.  But this is not the first Letter to the Earth from Professor Nelson.  Several years ago, he left one on my truck—about the Laramie columbine.

I’ve transcribed the letter verbatim.  Bracketed comments are mine.

--- ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ---

September 23, 2015

34985 North Pearly Gates East

Elysian Fields, Paradise

Dr. Hollis Marriott

Associate, Rocky Mountain Herbarium

Department of Botany, University of Wyoming

Laramie, Wyoming

Dear Dr. Marriott:  [not sure why they think I have a PhD]

We were most happy to hear of the upcoming open house for the Rocky Mountain Herbarium.  Professor Nelson received the flyer by email, with the help of a recent arrival.  We have such fond memories of the momentous project that laid the foundation of the herbarium.  We are writing to describe that trip and its lasting impact: the Rocky Mountain Herbarium, Professor Nelson’s greatest legacy.  Perhaps you will find occasion to share these stories and photos with attendees at the open house.

In this account, we occasionally refer to an individual writer for clarity.

Leslie Goodding:  In the fall of 1898, extraordinary news spread across campus: Professor Nelson would be going to Yellowstone Park the next summer!  This would be a botanical expedition of vast importance—three or four months collecting plants.  He had announced that he would take along two student assistants.  Of course many students were anxious to accompany Professor Nelson on that expedition, and were willing to work for nothing just to see the Park.  I was only 19, and just finishing high school where I took a botany class from Professor Nelson.  Apparently I made a good impression, for in spite of my inexperience, he hired me as a student assistant—at $10 per month and all expenses paid.  I couldn’t believe my good fortune!

Geyser-gazing in 1899.

Yellowstone—a wonderland of geysers, hot springs, waterfalls and wildlife—was America’s first National Park, designated in 1872.  We Wyoming citizens were proud to have the Park in our state but … most of us could only dream of visiting.  The cost of a commercial stage tour was prohibitive.  Thus it was quite extraordinary that a university professor—annual salary $1800—would be traveling in Yellowstone for 14 weeks with his family and two student assistants!

Professor Nelson's first graduate student, Elias Nelson (no relation), was the other assistant.  On June 13, 1899, he and Mr. Goodding rode a Union Pacific freight train to Monida, Montana—western gateway to the Park—with equipment and supplies.  The local citizens were puzzled when the boys unloaded a wagon, three horses, harnesses and saddle; canvas tent and bedding; cook stove, table with detachable legs, benches, chairs, and crates of provisions; and thousands of sheets of heavy felt paper.

Mrs. Nelson:  Professor Nelson, our daughters, and I arrived two days later.  We were all eager to begin the trip!  I began my diary entries, and encouraged Neva [older daughter] to do the same.  The girls made a strong impression on young Mr. Goodding.  He came from a poor family in the tiny town of Granite east of Laramie, and his English was hardly perfect.

Leslie Goodding:  I remember that day!  When they arrived, I realized I had acquired two English teachers, a young lady thirteen years of age and a tiny tot of eight.  Professor Nelson and his wife tolerated no sloppy English in their daughters.  Naturally it hurt like the blazes to have my speech corrected by two little girls but I swallowed my pill.

We left Monida on June 19, in our light lumber wagon.  In bad weather, we stretched a canvas bonnet over the wooden hoops, but more often we traveled coverless, enjoying the scenery.  The driver and a second man sat on state-of-the-art spring seats.  The third rode the small black saddle horse named Grace.  Mrs. Nelson and the girls sat on the passenger seat behind the driver.

Mr. Goodding at the reins.  Nelson ladies sit behind.

Professor Nelson:  We were six in all, and not a shirker in the lot.  We carried a brand new canvas tent, 12 x 14 feet in size, with a stout ridgepole and a reinforced hole for the stove chimney.  For twelve consecutive weeks, no one slept under a roof other than the tent, and the two boys usually under the vaulted star-studded skies.

We all wore felt campaign hats.

The sheet iron woodstove could be used inside the tent for cooking as well as warmth.  But when the weather was fine, we cooked and ate outside.  Can you imagine?  It was absolutely wonderful to dine in flower-filled meadows with snowy peaks in the distance!

The box-like object by Neva Nelson's feet is a plant press.

We carried enough food for the entire trip, but fortunately did not have to subsist entirely on rations.  The streams and lakes teemed with fish so large that they broke the only line we had with us.  Most evenings the men fished, but they caught nothing … until Elias developed the technique of throwing his plant-digging chisel though a big fish as it moved upstream.  On July 2, he caught 23 fish!

Most days we broke camp early.  We traveled Park roads, stopping at promising sites where there might be plant species we hadn’t yet found.  The men went out to collect, each with a vasculum across his shoulder [for carrying collected plants; today we mostly use plastic bags].  Smaller plants were taken in their entirety, including roots.  For larger species, we selected representative parts—a section of the stem with leaves, a good number of flowers, and fruit if available.

Professor Nelson's vasculum and several of our Yellowstone field books.

We collected many many duplicates—30,000 in all.  [This number is unbelievable! ... but true.]  These were sent to herbaria around the world, in exchange for specimens to add to the University of Wyoming herbarium.  Some sets were sold to institutions and private collectors (including one in India!), to raise money for summer field work and a student assistant during the school year.  At that time, the University provided no financial support for the herbarium.

Most days we travelled and collected until late afternoon, and then looked for a camping site with water, firewood, a flat spot for the tent, and grass for the horses.  Plant pressing commenced as soon as the tent was pitched and materials unloaded, often continuing into evening and sometimes the next morning.

We know you are a field botanist, Dr. Marriott, but it’s unlikely that you are familiar with field methods of our time, so we shall explain.  To preserve plants, we pressed and dried them in the field, as you modern botanists do on extended trips, but of course we had no electricity, refrigeration, nor inside facilities.  After removing a collected plant from the vasculum, we cleaned it of any dirt, and carefully arranged it between sheets of thin paper.  It was added to a growing stack of specimens, alternating with “blotters”or "driers"—12 x 17 inch sheets of heavy felt paper used to absorb moisture.  Stacks of pressed plants were tightly bound between wooden covers.  [Today we still press plants, but generally we use corrugated cardboard and driers of some kind; see this post.]

The next day we took the presses apart.  Damp blotters were replaced with dry ones, and the presses reassembled.  We continued this way until the plants were dry … in addition to pressing daily collections.

Professor Nelson checks drying plants (near the end of the expedition, hence the whiskers).

We dried damp blotters by spreading them carefully on the ground in the sun.  But this got us into trouble on our first day in the Park!  A soldier appeared and was appalled to see so many papers scattered about.  He demanded they be picked up at once.  Then he found our rifles.  After sealing them, he sent us to Mammoth to meet with Captain Brown, an extra 46 miles—two days of travel.  And Professor Nelson had already obtained permission from the Army in January!  [In 1899, the US Army was in charge of the Park; there was no National Park Service until 1916.]

Though we carried several thousand reusable blotters, this wasn’t enough when it rained for days at a time.  Then we set up the tent, gathered wood, and kept a fire going all day to dry plant presses and blotters carefully arranged around the stove.  You can see for yourself that we kept working during rainy weather—if you look closely at our Yellowstone specimens, you will sometimes find bits of felt blotter paper stuck to the plants.

Hydrothermal features are the Park's greatest attractions!  We visited many. [Nelson ladies by trees lower left.]

At the Spone with retired superintendent George Henderson, such a wonderful guide!

Mrs. Nelson:  One major mishap befell us.  Perhaps we were fortunate there was only one given the wildness of the Park in those days, but I so wish it hadn’t happened!  On July 26, Elias and Leslie were collecting near the popular “Artist Paint Pots”—

“They consist of numerous openings in the highly colored clay, and are intensely curious, their brilliant coloring and fantastic shapes being the admiration of all.  But visitors should avoid leaving the regular paths, as the treacherous character of this formation renders it quite unsafe.” (1894 Yellowstone Park Guide, A.B. Guptill)

Indeed, when Elias stepped off the path a bare two feet, his left leg sank into hot mud.  He jumped to higher ground, and pulled off his shoe and sock along with a large patch of skin from his ankle.  A huge blister ran up his leg.  Leslie raced back to camp, saddled Grace, and returned to Elias, who rode to camp at a gallop.  With the help of several nearby tourists, I sprinkled the wound with soda, bandaged it, and covered the bandage with flour.  Elias was in great pain, but never uttered one groan.

I redressed the burn morning and evening.  At Upper Geyser Basin we met a Dr. Irish, who examined it and found it serious.  Elias must go to the hospital at Fountain, or return home.  We drove to Madison and put Elias on the stage back to Monida, all broken up over leaving.

Park roads were well-constructed, but many turned to mud when it rained.

This is the curious Golden Gate.  [Click on image to view sign and approaching wagon.]

We had to spend several dreary days at Yellowstone Lake, unable to travel due muddy roads.

By mid August, it was obvious that the season was ending.  We were finding fewer plants to collect.  The weather was deteriorating, and the roads turned to mud.  Once we had to completely unload the wagon to get it unstuck.  On August 19, it snowed!  But we continued to travel during the spells of good weather, collecting occasionally, taking photographs. Finally, in early September, we drove back to Monida to catch the train to Laramie.

Leslie Goodding:  I could see the Nelsons were ready to go home.  They collected very little, and Mrs. Nelson was busy with laundry in preparation for the train trip.  I suppose I was ready too … after all, I had worn the soles off my only pair of boots!  But to be honest, I was still just as excited as the day I found out I was going to Yellowstone Park ... the spark was still in my eyes:

It was just as well the expedition was almost over—the soles were gone from my boots!

Dr. Marriott, we hope that you find field botany as exciting and satisfying as we did.  We greatly appreciate the contributions you and many others continue to make to the Rocky Mountain Herbarium.  We sincerely hope that there’s a bright and bountiful future ahead for that great institution.

Sincerely,

[signed]

Dr. Aven Nelson

Mrs. Celia Alice Nelson

Mr. Leslie N. Goodding

--- ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ---

Now home to one million specimens, the Rocky Mountain Herbarium is the largest collection of Rocky Mountain plants and a world-renown institution.  We are celebrating with an open house on Thursday, October 1, 4-6 pm.  Rumor has it that Mrs. Nelson and Mr. Goodding will return to Earth to share their stories of Yellowstone.  We hope you can come!

Sources

Photos from the American Heritage Center, with the exception of the vasculum.

Aven Nelson Papers, 1870-1983.  American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming, Laramie.  Guide.

Goodding, LN.  1944.  The 1899 botanical expedition into Yellowstone Park.  University of Wyoming Publication 11:9-12.

Goodding, LN.  1958.  Autobiography of the Desert Mouse.  San Pedro Valley News; Thursday, July 10.

Nelson, A. No date [1930s]. The Rocky Mountain Herbarium, in Aven Nelson papers, American Heritage Center, University of Wyoming, Laramie. Guide.

Williams, RL.  1984.  Aven Nelson of Wyoming.  Colorado Associated University Press.

“The Willow Never Quits”

Crown of American pussy willow next to limestone cliff.

On Wednesday I walked to the rim of the small canyon just east of town to check the willow I'm following.  At first it looked like nothing had changed since my visit in early July.  But a closer view confirmed that time is passing.

The tops of the leaves are darker, and the undersides more glaucous (blue-gray).  They weren’t so bi-colored back in June when I was trying to identify the tree.  And many are now looking a bit shabby, with brown spots and ragged edges.  Yes, time is passing.  Make haste to enjoy what’s left of summer ... it ends early in Wyoming.

“leaves obviously lighter below from glaucescence or hairs”

Signs of the times:  leaves are tattered and worn.  Days are noticeably shorter too.

It was different down below – there had been a major change.  Last month, several days of rain sent a creek down the normally-dry canyon.  A waterfall off the cliff behind the willow filled a small pond.  Now the canyon’s dry again.  The pond is gone though the ground's still damp.

The shady nook – still a bit of mud and a few mosquitos.

This spot is so different from the rest of the canyon.  It’s tucked away in an alcove, hidden by a large juniper.  It's green, shady and cool, and always feels secret or magical.

The leaves at the base of the willow – in shade – looked healthier.

I was absorbed in making abstract compositions out of limestone ledges and willow branches when I heard muttering from deep in the shady nook.  But when I investigated, I only saw more branches and rocks.  My first reaction was:  fairies! elves!

It grew louder and more clear, a strong male voice.  “I see you are an admirer of willows.  I’d like to discuss with you the important matter of a state pseudonym.”  Obviously this was neither a fairy nor an elf, but a ghost!

“The willow seems singularly appropriate as our pseudonym.  The Willow by its vigor speaks of fertile soils, sweet flowing streams, fresh lakes and mountain snows.  Wyoming should be The Willow State.”

“Whenever it has been presented, the suggestion has met with spontaneous and hearty approval.  The idea has been presented in high schools, in college classes, before luncheon, social and civic clubs and in Scout camps.  It always aroused enthusiasm and this often found expression in the yell:

Rah-rah-rah!  Rah-rah-rah!

Rah-rah-rah!

The Willow State!  The Willow State!

The Willow State!

This was hard to believe.  Was this the ghost of a crackpot?  Obviously he was well-educated, but his ornate high-sounding language was off-putting, and some of his facts were just plain wrong.

“1.  No other state in the Union has so many different kinds of Willows.”

California and Alaska have more, I explained [later I realized that in his time Alaska was not yet state].

“2.  No other plant is so universally distributed within our borders.”

Quite a few are more universally distributed, for example dandelions, wheat grasses and locoweeds.  But he was absolutely right – there are many Willow Creeks in Wyoming – at least one in every county and often more.

“3.  Willows are known and loved by everyone.  Even children recognize them at once and are charmed by the richness of their foliage, the gracefulness of their habit, the splendid contrasting colors of stems and branches in the long winter season, and the beauty they give to the vernal landscape when the ‘pussy-tail’ flower clusters bedeck the otherwise naked branches as Spring resumes her gentle sway.”

The kids I know are charmed by smart phones not willows, but I didn’t say anything.  He seemed to be ignoring me anyway.  He continued with more “facts upon which the appropriateness of the name rests:”

“4.  The Willow is the first to herald by the opening of its fuzzy buds, the advent of spring, and the last to lay aside its golden or purpling autumn dress.”

Indeed, my willow bloomed in February.  This fall I will watch it closely to see if it really is the last to lay aside its purpling autumn dress.

February:  male pussy willow flowers and snow.

“5.  The Willow worthily symbolizes Wyoming.  In it we find typified the spirit and character of our people.  It is strong – it bends to necessity but does not break.  It is aggressive, continually advancing into the new stations and occupying the fields.  It is social, having learned the art of living in harmony with others of its kind and with competitors of every sort …”

Wait a minute! … this is the only willow for miles!!  I think it’s one of those rugged individualists that are so common in our state!!!  I was shouting, but it had no effect.  I’d had enough.  I picked up my pack and left.  As I walked down the canyon, the words grew faint and finally unintelligible.

“… its common name is euphonious and simple ... its short staccato scientific name (Salix) suggests the snap and vigor of our people ... their spirit and dogged spssssssss s s s .... 

~~ •• ~~

Oddly, it all seemed vaguely familiar.  Yesterday I went to the Rocky Mountain Herbarium at the University to check plant identifications for my iNaturalist project.  When I signed the guestbook, I suddenly remembered!  Among the memorabilia nearby was an article published on August 27, 1924, in The Branding Iron (student newspaper):

“Dr. Nelson Suggests Pseudonym of ‘Willow State’ for Wyoming”

The ghost in the canyon was Aven Nelson, Father of Wyoming Botany.  But even though he was one of our most prominent citizens in his day, his campaign failed.  We became the Equality State instead, as Wyoming was the first territory to grant female suffrage and the first state to allow women to vote, serve on juries and hold public office.  But Nelson hasn't given up ... he's still fighting for the Willow.

“On frigid, rocky mountain top or in fertile valley, some member of the Willow team fights on, whether bent by furious blasts, bitten by browsing beasts or smashed by an avalanche of sodden snow – THE WILLOW NEVER QUITS”

Aven Nelson in the field (AHC).

This is my contribution to the August tree following gathering, kindly hosted by Lucy of Loose and Leafy.