Lawn is a dirty word

Native plants provide food and shelter for wildlife, such as this orange-sulfur butterfly on a black-eyed Susan
(photo by Alan Kneidel)

I noticed several of my neighbors seeding their lawns yesterday; autumn is the prime time to do that. Autumn seeding gives the new grass a head start before summer's heat rolls around. But my family won't be reseeding, even though our yard looks pathetic and embarrasses my husband. Our front yard was, at one time, a true lawn. Now it is an assortment of weeds that we still mow, dotted with numerous chipmunk holes, cicada holes, and the holes of huge solitary wasps called "cicada killers." Most of the weeds are introduced species that have no business being in North Carolina. In fact, the front yard looks more like a vacant urban lot than a lawn. But yet, we don't want a "better" lawn of uniform fescue or bermuda grass. We would rather create a native meadow in our front yard, or cover up the "lawn" with dead leaves. How would our neighbors like that? I'm not sure. But the birds, raccoons, butterflies, and the stream critters behind our lot would probably prefer it.

We have a lot of lawns in the United States. I was surprised to learn, while researching our book Going Green, that lawns are the 5th biggest "crop" in the U.S.! After corn, wheat, soybean, and hay, we devote more land area to lawn than to any other cultivated plant!

That is not good news for wildlife. The per-acre application of pesticides to lawns is typically 20 times greater than pesticide application to farm crops. This seems absurd when you consider that lawns don't serve much purpose other than to match our arbitrary idea of what looks good in front of a house. Lawns are an American obsession that the rest of the world doesn't share. Brits refer to the yard as a "garden" - because it usually is a garden. In Latin America, yards (if they exist) are typically covered with native trees and shrubs and bare soil that's raked every day.

Yet lawns are serious business in the United States. We spend more than $30 billion per year on lawn installation, lawn-care products, equipment, and the lawn-service industry in our pursuit of the ideal lawn – composed of grass species only, free of weeds, always green, and regularly moved to a low and even height. Gasoline powered mowers, blowers, trimmers, and so on, account for 5% of urban air pollution. And in spite of efforts to recycle, grass clippings and trimmings from ornamental shrubs comprise a fifth of all municipal waste.

Our green urban and suburban spaces - lawns, roadsides, and parks - add up to a staggering amount of space that we are not taking advantage of. With a little attention, the 30 million acres of lawn in this country could become 30 million acres of native plants, creating habitat for threatened and endangered animal species. Habitat destruction is the number one threat to wildlife species worldwide, including here in the U.S. Converting lawn to native habitat could provide not only resources for wildlife, but a natural filter and a temperature regulator against air pollution and heat-trapping emissions from cities. In addition, this conversion would reduce or eliminate the chemicals, power machinery, and intensive watering required to maintain lawns and other nonnative landscaping. Lawns absorb only 10% of the water that a woodland would. The rest runs off into streams, where it contributes significantly to suburban flooding and stream degradation.

So what to do? In our yard, we have actually made some progress. We started by getting rid of the English ivy, a problematic "invasive" plant, that was covering half of the front yard and crawling up our maple trees. We succeeded in killing it without herbicides. Following the advice of native-habitat-restoration expert Beth Henry, we mowed the ivy as low as we could, then covered it with flattened cardboard boxes and newspaper, and put a thick layer of dead leaves on top of the cardboard / newspaper. It's been about 9 or 10 months since we did that, and the ivy seems to be truly dead now. The same method can be used to get rid of turf, without herbicides, although Beth recommends a thick layer of heavy mulch rather than leaves for killing lawns. That's how she killed two acres of lawn on her own property, before converting the space to a native meadow. We're not sure of the best approach to the "lawn" portion of our front yard, so for now it remains an unappealing assortment of chickweed, plantain, wild violets, clover, oxalis, and scraggly grasses.

Our backyard is heavily shaded and grass has never grown there. Instead, the ground is covered with leaves. In the past month, my husband has bought a number of native plants that thrive in woodlands, including hearts-a-bustin (Euonymus americanus), beauty berry (Callicarpa americanus), Christmas fern, and more. His plan is to create a native woodland understory, again following the advice of Beth Henry.

The lovely "hearts-a-bustin," a woodland understory plant
(photo courtesy of www.easttennesseewildflowers.com)

If you want native plants for your own yard, most states have a "native plant society" that you can locate by googling. If that doesn't work, ask around at local nurseries. An increasing number of plant nurseries carry native plants, or can tell you where to buy them. Even Home Depot carries native plants, although the manager at my local Home Depot told me that their plants are grouped by watering needs, so they don't have a section devoted to native plants. Just ask the nursery manager to point out the plants that are native to your area.

If you want to plant specifically to attract wildlife, check out the National Wildlife Federation's backyard habitat program at http://www.nwf.org/backyard/. They recommend plants that offer nectar, berries, and foliage to feed wildlife, as well as landscape structure (rocks, logs, ponds, birdhouses, etc.) to provide wildlife shelter.

A native meadow

With our ivy gone now, and a plan for our shaded back yard, we're contemplating how to transform the bleak expanse in front of our house into something that nurtures wildlife without entirely alienating our neighbors, all of whom sport tidy green lawns. A low-growing native ground cover might be appropriate for us. Maybe moss phlox, lyre-leafed sage, or mouse-eared coreopsis. Or ideally some heterogeneous combination of ground covers, aesthetically arranged. I need to get Beth over here to confer with us. Meanwhile, the chipmunks, cicadas, and cicada killers will have free reign over the eclectic collection of patchy weeds between our home and the street.

Beth Henry checks a monarch chrysalis in the native meadow at her home (photo by Sally Kneidel)

A green-lynx spider has captured a hawk moth for dinner in an unmanicured section of our yard (photo by Alan Kneidel)

Text by Sally Kneidel, PhD

Sources:

Sally Kneidel, PhD, and Sadie Kneidel. 2008. Going Green: A Wise Consumer's Guide to a Shrinking Planet. Fulcrum Publishing.

Environmental Protection Agency, Green Communities, Beneficial Landscaping, "Environmentally Friendly Landscaping," www.epa.gov/greenkit/landscap.htm

US Geological Survey. Science in your watershed. http://water.usgs.gov/wsc/customer.html

Watershed Partnership for New Jersey, "Feeling Smart? Take Our Watershed Quiz!!" www.wpnj.org/Education/fa2.htm

Invasive and Exotic Species. http://www.invasive.org/

Martin F. Quigley. "The American Lawn: An Unrequited Love", Ohio State University, Extension Research Bulletin

Syndicated to:

BasilandSpice!

The Statesman!

Keywords:: native meadow native landscaping beneficial landscaping wildlife habitat butterfly gardening lawns Going Green Sally Kneidel Sadie Kneidel birding birds watershed education invasive plants Alan Kneidel

Peru's desert coast surprises us: Paracas and Islas Ballestas

A make-shift home on Peru's Pacific coast (click on any pic to enlarge it)

I was leery of the "desert coast" south of Lima. What kind of place to live could that be, with no plants of any kind? What kind of wildlife could we see? It sounded like a moonscape! Bleak!

I live close to the Carolina coast with its maritime forests, or what's left of them - Palmetto trees, gnarly oaks draped with Spanish moss, Southern bayberries sheered by ocean winds. I love the stalky "sea oats" that anchor our white dunes.

What would a barren seashore look like? I imagined a dull and empty gray beach stretching on and on....

As it turns out, I was all wrong. Parts of Peru's southern coast are devoid of plants, but the lack of rainfall doesn't affect life in the ocean. In fact, the marine life offshore is unusually rich and diverse. That's because of Humboldt currents in the area that bring nutrients up from the ocean floor. Plankton feed on the nutrients, fish eat the plankton, and hundreds of oceanic and coastal birds and marine mammals feed on the fish. We knew there would be coastal birds, but were pleasantly surprised by the diversity of birds and mammals. Even Andean Condors venture to this coast during the sea-lion birthing season. As scavengers, the condors feed on the afterbirth left on the beaches.

Below: a Peruvian Pelican,
flourishing on the abundant fish offshore

Once we'd decided to check it out, our first challenge was how to get there safely?? We'd planned to take a bus south along the PanAmerican highway from Lima to Paracas, but then heard that these buses are often stopped by bandits, and that the Paracas bus stations are hot-spots for baggage theft. We were advised to hire a driver instead.

On the recommendation of Dr. Devon Graham, director of Project Amazonas, we hired Miguel Quevedo of Lima to drive us. Miguel proved to be a great choice. He drove at a reasonable speed, he was careful, he couldn't have been more attentive to our needs. When we made pit stops, he found out where the bathroom hole was, if any, and whether there were any snacks or drinks to be had. He stopped when we saw birds to identify, or Tyson-style chicken "farms" to gape at, or photos to shoot. When we left the car to track down a bird, he stayed with the car to guard our stuff. He drove us down muffler-scraping rural tracks without complaint, and prevented many potential problems by thinking ahead. To call him from the U.S.: 011.511.9664.1254. Or email our travel agent in Peru, Rosa Vasquez, at reservas@pascana.com; she can call him from Peru for you.

Above: a clean bathroom along the way

The 5 hour drive from Lima to Paracas turned out to be illuminating. About half of Peru's population live in poverty, many in extreme poverty. Political and economic chaos and guerilla activity of the 1980s, during the presidency of Alan Garcia, fueled an exodus from the Andes into the cities, especially Lima. A lack of adequate space and services has created outlying informal settlements known as pueblos jovenes (young towns). We passed dozens of such settlements on the road to Paracas, many of which lack sanitation and electricity. Some are more solidly constructed than others.

Below: informal settlements along the road to Paracas (click on photos to enlarge)

As we drew close to Paracas, we passed through small towns that had been devastated by a major earthquake in 2007. We saw collapsed walls and lingering piles of rubble alongside rebuilt structures. Reconstruction is progressing, but slowly. The earthquake spawned a tidal surge that flooded buildings close to shore, and those left standing bore the evidence - paint was peeling up to 3 or 4 feet on most older buildings.

Our primary destination was Reserva Nacional de Paracas, and the offshore islands Islas Ballestas, which support thousands of breeding oceanic birds. Our friend and travel agent Rosa Vasquez in Iquitos booked 2 rooms for us in the town of Paracas. The rooms were perfect. The little inn is quiet, small, simple, and inexpensive - we were the only guests of proprietor Isabel Coello, who was extremely helpful. The inn (called Paracas Bay) is also her family's home. It is located on Paracas Bay and right around the corner from the wharf where tour boats take off for Islas Ballestas. It's also across the street from a grocery store, and a 5 minute walk from several affordable and good restaurants. For rates and reservations, contact Isabel at bird002@hotmail.com or call 011.56.545082 from the U.S. Our rooms worked out to about $9.25 per person per night. While staying with Isabel, we met her friend Jorge Ibanez Vignolo, an energetic Peruvian birder who lived in California for 10 years, and now runs a kiteboarding business in Paracas Bay. His website is www.kiteboardingparacas.com; his e-mail is jorgeibanezbsc@yahoo.com; phone 011.511.440-2265 from the U.S.

Isabel Coello and her lovely inn, Paracas Bay. Behind the broom you can see the high-water marks from the flooding following the recent earthquake.

Isabel booked our boat tour for us (roughly $10 per person) and the next morning Ken, Alan, and I took off for Islas Ballestas. The tour took about 2.5 or 3 hours, most of which was spent on the boat journey outward and back. Sadie had traveler's digestive distress and stayed behind at the inn with Miguel and Isabel.

Below are shots taken from the boat. We spent an hour cruising around the rocky islands' arches and caves, watching sea lions sprawled on the rocks and thousands of birds: Humboldt Penguins, Neotropical Cormorants, Inca Terns, Peruvian Pelicans, Peruvian Boobies, Oystercatchers, Red-legged and Guanay Cormorants, Surf Cynclodes, and more.

Alan Kneidel searches for rare birds like the Surf Cynclodes from the tour boat.

Pic below: Peruvian Pelicans and Peruvian Boobies perched on ledges.


Above, Peruvian Pelicans.

Below, Humboldt Penguins on Islas Ballestas.

Below, sea lions lounging and socializing on the rocks.

Below: our tour boat approaching a cave on Islas Ballestas

Below: An Inca Tern in one of the caves Photo below: After we returned from the boat tour, Isabel hooked us up with a professional bird guide, Edgardo Aguilar. He normally charges $80 for a full day of birding, but gave us a reduced rate since we used him for only about 3 hours. His email address is edgardoaguilarh@yahoo.com.

Edgardo (left) showing Alan and Ken the Slender-billed Finch,
in farmland a mile or so back from the water's edge

Edgardo speaks excellent English, is very friendly, and knows his birds. Even better, he's very good at describing exactly where a tiny bird is hidden in the foliage. (Yes, there were plants after we drove a mile or so inland.) I highly recommend Edgardo if you're birding in the Paracas area. He lives in one of the nearby towns - Ica or Pisco - and knows the area intimately. He took us through an offroad agricultural area where we saw Vermillion Flycatchers (my first), Slender-billed Finch, Coastal Miner, Common Nighthawk, Peruvian Meadowlark, etc. and best of all - a colony of Burrowing Owls!


Left,
the
owls'
burrows



























Above: a burrowing owl near Paracas


Below: A child saw us looking at the owls and ran out from her home to see if she could help. She pointed out another couple of burrows to Sadie.

Below, the owls and a lot of the other birds
Edgardo showed us were near irrigated plots
of paprika peppers

After an early afternoon with Edgardo, we dropped him off at home and tooled away in Miguel's car toward Reserva Nacional de Paracas, just a few miles down the road from the town of Paracas.

The reserve is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen - with absolutely no plants in sight.

Pics below: Reserva Nacional de Paracas, on Peru's southern coast

Above: a turkey vulture dines on a seal carcass washed ashore
Below: more shots of the Paracas reserve

Below: Miguel, Miguel's car, and Sadie at the Paracas reserve

Below, Alan peers over Ken's shoulder at pelagic birds offshore

What do you think, beautiful or bleak? I loved the Humboldt penguins on Islas Ballestas - my first penguins. I loved Isabel and Edgardo, I loved the burrowing owls and the little girl who showed us more. I loved Miguel, I loved the stark and haunting coast - the colorful cliffs and hungry birds.

I understand that the area is experiencing a boom in tourism. I'm glad the reserve does actually seem to be protected, and hope the coming development of the adjacent areas can proceed mindfully. The residents could really benefit from more tourist dollars from industrialized nations - mainly, the U.S.

Sadie, Alan, Ken and Sally Kneidel at Reservas Nacional de Paracas

All photos and text by Sally Kneidel

Keywords: Paracas Humboldt penguin Islas Ballestas birding Peru Rosa Vasquez Los Zarcillos birding South America Reserva Nacional de Paracas

Other recent posts about our travels in Peru:

Deep in the Amazon: the wildlife delivery crew

Careening through the Andes

Roasted guinea pig: trekking at 12,000 ft

Rainforest in need: here's how to help

Taking Rosa's good advice, we veered up the road into Huaraz and the Peruvian Andes

Rosa looked concerned. "Why are you going to Huancayo?" she asked, brow furrowed. Rosa Vasquez Zanetti runs a travel agency out of her family's inn where we were staying, on the Amazon River in Iquitos Peru. Rosa had been so helpful already, I'd asked her to look over our plans for the Andes.

"We picked Huancayo at random - because it's a small mountain town with no Americans, and not too far from Lima by bus," I answered.

"But...that's not the best plan," Rosa continued, in her soft-spoken way. "For birding and trekking, you should go to Huaraz in the Cordillera Blanca. And you should ride the Cruz del Sur bus from Lima. It travels during the day and makes no stops so it's safer." Night buses that make frequent stops are vulnerable to occasional muggings, as we heard from more than one source.

a view of Huaraz from Zarela's hostel

"Stay at Zarela's hostel in Huaraz for a couple of days to get acclimated," Rosa told us. "Then from there, you can go up to Llanganuco Lodge and Llanganuco Lake. You'll like that better than Huancayo."

Rosa arranged it all. As it turns out, the Cruz del Sur bus does make pit stops on request (the onboard bathroom is for liquids only, the driver announced). But no scheduled stops. And it didn't freak me out like I feared it would, swooping around mountain curves with no guard rails. I just didn't look out the window.

kids of a Huaraz street vendor

We loved Huaraz - at 10,200 feet, the highest place we'd ever spent the night. (Click for map.) We loved La Casa de Zarela too, a first-class backpackers' hostel with hot water, great views, and helpful staff, especially spunky owner Zarela Zamora (online reviews and contact info). Most of the guests staying there left early in the morning on treks or climbs arranged by one of the local trekking companies. Huaraz (and Zarela's) are featured in Outside Magazine as the mecca for mountain adventurers in the northern Peruvian Andes. Nestled between the Cordillera Negra (brown peaks) and the Cordillera Blanca (frosted peaks), Huaraz is within spitting distance of some of the world's highest summits. The Cordillera Blanca has more than 50 peaks of 5700 m (18,700 feet) or higher. North America has only three; Europe none. (Click here for a Huaraz trekker's online journal entry.)

Much of the adobe town was leveled by an earthquake in 1970 that killed 20,000 people in Huaraz alone - half the population. The town has been rebuilt, this time with rebar reinforcement in every wall. In fact, a good proportion of the homes and buildings still have rebar poking out the top. But the funky construction and the steep cobbled streets just add to the town's personality - a blend of local enterprise and Andean indigenous culture, along with the trekkers, birders, and wanderers like ourselves.

a Huaraz weaver and her alpaca

I spent our time in Huaraz skulking around the town, trying to get pics of Andean street scenes and the beautiful Quechua women who were everywhere, with their long thick braids and brilliantly colored hand-woven clothes and baby-slings. In the afternoons and evenings, indigenous women from outlying farms and villages set up stands or spread blankets on the sidewalk to sell produce or woven items. They all wore traditional fedora-style hats, often with an arrangement of feathers lying flat against the felt. Most of the women didn't want their picture taken, even when I asked politely. But a few acquiesced, a couple of them even asked me to mail them prints. It was a blissful day for me, I can't say why exactly - one of those few days where the world seems a lovely place; I felt grateful to be alive and well.































































After just one day of acclimating in Huaraz, and scampering about annoying people with my camera, we hired a taxi driver from Yungay to take us to Llanganuco Lodge at 11,500 feet, and later Llanganuco Lake (12,500 feet) in Huascarán National Park. The lodge is right smack at the base of snow-covered peaks Huascarán and Huandoy. At 22,200 feet, Huascarán is the highest tropical peak in the world. I'll tell you about the National Park and the lodge - and altitude sickness - in my next post. Between our amoeba issues along the Amazon and altitude sickness in the Andes, we had a few sick days. But that's all forgotten now. I said in my previous post that I'd move to Iquitos in a heartbeat; I'll have to include Huaraz as well. If a job opened in either place, I'd be gone in a flash.

Huascarán by Alan Kneidel

All other photos, and text, by Sally Kneidel

Keywords:: Huaraz, Andes, trekking, trek, climbing, Huascaran, Llanganuco, Pascana Amazon Services, Rosa Vasquez, Quechua, La Pascana, Zarela, Zarela's, alpaca, Kneidel, Sally Kneidel, Alan Kneidel