Eugene’s wetlands survive and thrive By Vanessa Salvia
Get a few miles down West 18th Avenue and the view changes from homes and businesses to what looks like a vast expanse of grassland. It’s the West Eugene wetlands, an area roughly bounded by Barger Avenue to the north and Gimpl Hill Road to the south, and extending to Greenhill Road to the west and Seneca to the east, straddling both the urban growth boundary and the city limits. Out here, where the grass keeps going as far as the eye can see, only the faintest growl of traffic can be heard. A northern harrier glides silently over the fields, sustained by healthy vole and mice populations. Closer at hand, green tree frogs plop into a seasonal stream. Western pond turtles, deer, even cougars thrive here.
Today in Oregon, more than 98 percent of the native wet prairie is gone, and nationally, 90 percent has been lost. Of the millions of acres of prairie and wetlands that once made up the territory of the Kalapuya Indians, the Southern Willamette Valley has the largest percentage of what remains.
Developers and conservationists from across the nation are now looking to Eugene, to our successes in restoring native habitat throughout a wildlife preserve in the heart of an urban setting.
From prairie to plowshare
The Kalapuyas routinely burned the valley for ease of travel and hunting, and to grow food crops. Great quantities of native camas, which blossoms in deep blue, star-shaped flower spikes, were collected as a staple food source; the bulbs were roasted like a potato or dried and pounded into flour.
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Much of the Willamette Valley was wet prairie until the mid-1800s, when homes, farms, and industry began to claim the land. West Eugene’s wetlands were too wet to plow, but over the decades several dairy operations took advantage. “You can run cattle on prairie for years and years and years,” says Matt Benotsch, stewardship coordinator for The Nature Conservancy’s Eugene office. “You diminish that prairie nature, but some will withstand it for years,” he says, gesturing at the expanse of Willow Creek Preserve, a 509-acre fragment of what once was a sea of grasses and flowers stretching from Portland to south of Cottage Grove. Plowing, he says, “breaks the backbone of the prairie,” and then it’s gone.
Future plans dashed
During the 1970s, local government sunk more than $20 million worth of infrastructure improvements into the West Eugene area. With Springfield bordering on the east, and the flat expanse of what appeared to be usable land in the west, it seemed only natural that Eugene should expand in that direction.
In 1977, President Jimmy Carter issued an executive order that defined and protected wetlands, recalls Steve Gordon, a land-use planner hired by the City of Eugene during the ’80s. “In 1987, we were almost totally unaware that there were wetlands out there,” says Gordon, who is now retired but undiminished in his enthusiasm over the area’s history. That year, a biologist hired to inventory Eugene’s natural resources noted that of about 1,300 acres of wetlands, more than one-third were on land the city planned to develop.
“We knew of swamps and bogs and marshes,” says Gordon, “but this was wet prairie. It was a kind of wetland that we just didn’t expect.” About 120 private landowners and the industrial interests who planned to build there “were real upset,” he adds. “It was only wet for part of the year,” says Patricia Johnston, a federal Bureau of Land Management employee and West Eugene Wetlands project manager. “People didn’t know what it was.”
Building on known wetlands is expensive; regulations require federal permits and mitigation—for each acre of wetland slated for development, an acre of wetland must be purchased and preserved or restored. Suddenly, the city’s expansion plans seemed sunk. The message was, “You bought a wetland,” says Gordon. “Congratulations, you now own a wetland.”
Numerous funding sources were tapped to begin acquiring the highest priority wetlands. Some of the parcels purchased by the BLM for preservation had been farmed or filled in. “It was not pristine wetlands,” Johnston says. The area at Danebo and West 11th Avenue contained an airstrip from the ’30s that had been converted into a drag strip called the Balboa Race Track. Another BLM parcel still has an old airstrip on it.
In 1994, the West Eugene Wetlands Partnership was set up between the City of Eugene, the BLM, The Nature Conservancy, and private landowners. “Now,” enthuses Gordon, “we have this wonderful 3,000-acre open space out there.”
Plan for recovery
And “out there,” people must coexist with the sensitive species that eke out an existence in a vastly reduced habitat.
The Nature Conservancy has managed Willow Creek Preserve since 1981. In 1990, the Fender’s blue butterfly (Icaricia icarioides fenderi), which was thought to be extinct, was rediscovered in the area.
These light blue creatures, only one inch wide and native to the Willamette Valley, rely on a plant known as Kincaid’s lupine, which is itself threatened, as their sole host plant. The butterfly’s life cycle is short. After emergence, they fly off in search of food and a mate. Too often, they don’t find either. The east side of Willow Creek Preserve hosts two populations of Fender’s blue, nearly a mile apart from each other. “That’s too far,” shrugs Benotsch, his blue slicker snug against a wind-whipped November rain. Generally, Fender’s blue fly only a few hundred feet from the plant they were born on in their search for lupines; if they don’t find any, the butterflies stay put. Benotsch hopes to link up the two populations through strategic plantings of host plants and food sources.
Weather greatly affects the butterfly’s seven-to-10-day window for survival. “We used to have a million acres of prairie here in the Willamette Valley, and it wouldn’t always be raining over that whole million acres,” he says. But on this oasis of grass, poor flying weather for 15 days in a row may end an individual butterfly’s only chance at reproduction. “Things are kind of bad for the butterfly, but there are people working on it,” says Benotsch. “I like to think that we do actually have a shot at helping them recover.”
Private goals
Dick Briggs and his wife, Sally, purchased a 22-acre home site along Green Hill Road 13 years ago. The Briggses donated the land’s easement to the BLM and The Nature Conservancy, with the stipulation that it only be used for restoration and the preservation of natural resources. “I could have sold it to them,” Briggs says, breaking into a deep laugh, “but what the heck?”
In 2007, The Nature Conservancy planted 5,500 plants and broadcast 25 pounds of native wildflower seed throughout seven acres of Briggs’ upland prairie. Last spring, “we had seven acres of beautiful flowers,” he beams, “white ones, then pink ones, then yellow ones. Just beautiful.”
Briggs closely monitors weeds, particularly thistle, regularly walking his entire property to remove them. Following 10 years of federal monitoring, “we have successfully restored the whole darn 22 acres,” he boasts. The Briggses spent $60,000 of their own money in the process. “That’s crazy,” he says. “We could have done the whole thing, without regulation, for $40,000, easily. But what the heck is money for except to do something that people can look at for all time?”
Restoration methods
Workers have a number of tools to restore sensitive prairie habitat, but the most useful one is the most ancient: fire.
Without suppression from humans, fires sweep through open grasslands with moderate regularity, removing the above-ground biomass, allowing sunlight to warm the land, and providing an immediate influx of nutrients to the soil.
The Nature Conservancy has conducted controlled burns in the Willow Creek Preserve 10 times over the past 25 years, but burning in an urban environment is difficult. Wind speeds and direction must be optimum, and paying fire crews is costly. “When we can’t burn, we mow,” says Benotsch. “It’s basically a mechanical reproduction of fire,” but without the thatch removal and nutrient flush.
Benotsch’s eyes scan the grass at his feet, pointing out clumps of Wyethia angustifolia, or Mule’s ear. With a yellow bloom like that of a small sunflower, it is one indicator species of wet prairie. In years past, fast-growing ash trees dominated the view, but in 2003, many of the saplings were removed to create space for native grasses and flowers such as this. “We’re not trying to get rid of all the ash trees,” vows Benotsch, “but the prairie is almost all gone, and we’ve got a lot of ash trees.” These hardy ash sprouts have grown more than five feet in the 14 months since they were last mowed. “It takes a lot of management,” he says, but his ardor to see the landscape in its natural state prevents him from turning his back on it.
Wherever Benotsch and his volunteers create space for grass and flowers, non-native blackberries take hold, too. They could be yanked out by the roots, but nature is quick to reseed any open area, and non-natives are the most exuberant. Benotsch has one volunteer who spends 300 hours each year—about 4,000 hours over the past 13 years—teasing out blackberry crowns by hand.
Pressing on down the mowed path, Benotsch comes to a 42-acre former hayfield that The Nature Conservancy is restoring to upland prairie. After judicious applications of herbicide and repeated mowing, a crew planted a “base coat” of native plants, such as checker mallow, a food source for Fender’s blue. “This field was perennial non-native grass with really tough roots,” Benotsch says. “It can still come back.” But he’s hoping it won’t. In February, 24,000 lupine seeds, along with tens of thousands of camas, lily, and onion bulbs, were planted by hand.
Education center
Willamette Resources & Education Network (WREN), a local nonprofit, is fundraising to build an educational center on 12 1/2 acres of land owned by the BLM.
Demand for WREN’s educational programs has more than doubled over the past four years. The proposed center would house the organization, which currently operates out of an uninsulated yurt 30 feet in diameter, with no water and limited electricity.
Award-winning plans for the education center have been drawn up by Eugene’s Rowell Brokaw Architects, with construction slated to begin when fundraising is complete. The total cost for Phase 1 of the two-phase project is $4.7 million, and nearly 70 percent of that funding has been secured, including $1.75 million from a bond measure passed by Eugene voters in 2006.
The finished design will exceed the highest Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design (LEED) standards. The construction site is not sensitive wetlands, but restored upland, home to more than 350 types of plants, many of which live only in the Willamette Valley. A roof covered with living plants will give a bird’s-eye view of unbroken prairie, and the center will serve as a gateway to the real classroom: three acres of restored habitat for both Kincaid’s lupine and Fender’s blue butterfly.
Eyes of the nation
Wetlands are no longer perceived as barriers to progress or bogs that must be filled in to be “useful.” A new generation is learning to appreciate wetlands, and developers and conservationists from across the country are looking right here for guidance on how to preserve and protect what’s left of them, and restore what’s been damaged.
This wetlands’ urban location could be viewed as a detriment, says the BLM’s Patricia Johnston, as people don’t always understand or respect the land’s sensitive nature. “But the opportunity is there to engage the people of Eugene and Springfield. To me, if people don’t know about something, how are they ever going to care about it?”
Directions to Willow Creek Preserve, from downtown Eugene
Travel west on West 11th Avenue, and continue past the stoplight at Bailey Hill Road. Turn left at the next light, onto Bertelsen Road. Turn right at the four-way stop, onto West 18th Avenue. Drive 0.3 miles and park on the right side of the road, adjacent to where the east fork of Willow Creek River flows under West 18th Avenue. The preserve is on your left, to the south.
Or, travel west on 18th Avenue through the Bailey Hill Road traffic lights. Continue past the Bertelsen Road stop sign for 0.3 miles. Park on the right side of the road, adjacent to where the east fork of the Willow Creek River flows under West 18th Avenue. The preserve is on your left, to the south.
For more information about WREN, the West Eugene wetlands, and the West Eugene Wetlands Partnership, visit wewetlands.org, or call 541/683-6494.
What Are Wetlands?
Wetlands are areas that are permanently or seasonally saturated with groundwater. Wetlands provide habitat diversity and clean water, recharge water supplies, reduce flood risk, and trap carbon, removing it from the atmosphere and mitigating its effects on climate change.
An acre of wetland can store up to 1.5 million gallons of floodwater.
Up to one-half of North American bird species nest or feed in wetlands.
Although wetlands make up only about 5 percent of the land surface in the contiguous United States, they are home to 31 percent of our plant species.
Source: epa.gov/owow/wetlands/pdf/fun_val.pdf
Hayfield Restoration
A 42-acre former hayfield is being restored to provide habitat for the endangered Fender’s blue butterfly. The plant materials include all known and suspected nectar sources for Fender’s blue, the host plant Kincaid’s lupine, and a suite of other upland prairie and wet prairie flower and grass species. The lupine seeds were all grown in The Nature Conservancy’s native plant nursery at Willow Creek, while the remaining plants were grown from original seed and plant stock collected at Willow Creek and other locations in the West Eugene Wetlands.
