Patience, Awareness, and Grit
by WCC Crewmember Tessa Perler
Our Washington Conservation Corps crew has been fortunate this summer to work with Skagit Fisheries Enhancement Group to survey the Sauk and Skagit riverside. We are in search of one insidious ecological tyrant: knotweed. Knotweed spreads primarily through fragmentation from disturbances due to human activity, storms or flooding, and through underground root systems known as rhizomes. Even just a small half-inch root fragment that detaches from the plant can result in a new colony. Pretty gross, right? Makes me sick. Knotweed shoots up stalks in the spring time as tall as twelve feet. In late July and August, the plant begins to channel its energy back downward into its roots so that it can regrow again next spring. It is most effective to treat knotweed at this time so that the herbicide can flow down the stalk and into its root system. We give it the spritz, mark the patch location on our GPS so it can be monitored next year, flag the location in a nearby tree, take a picture, and the survey continues.
Constant communication is integral to our knotweed surveys. In order to ensure that a section of a riverside has been checked for knotweed, we keep around twenty feet between each of us and move together in a horizontal line. We indicate a general direction to head in, briefly discuss the plan, line up, and the survey is on. The first survey of the season, I got completely lost. I felt like I was walking aimlessly in circles. Within a week I learned to use the sounds my crewmates make (often, boisterous bird calls) to orient myself and stay in an adequate position in the line. If someone is stuck in a log jam or held up in a patch of dubious devils club, we can walkie our crew and ask everyone to wait up.
I have found it important to cultivate patience, awareness, and grit. We have to watch each other’s backs, stay in communication, and keep each other safe. Bucking up the motivation to trudge through thick brush, rotten logs and fallen limbs is a challenge each day. Some days we have full sun exposure, steep slopes, swarms of mosquitoes, and the threat of a hidden wasp hive around every corner. Yet, most days, I’ll happen upon a peaceful shady pond surrounded by lush mossy rocks and inhabited by dozens of precious tadpoles or baby fish. One day I unexpectedly encountered an expansive young grand fir grove in the middle of a forest near the Sauk River. I was in awe. I have found peace in taking in the small worlds within the woods that I otherwise wouldn’t get the opportunity to see.
