Desert Dwellers - Biodiversity for a Livable Climate

Featured Creature: Prickly Pear Cactus

What plant thrives in the harshest landscapes, conserving water like a desert camel, and produces a sweet yet spiky fruit enjoyed for centuries? The Prickly Pear Cactus!

When I’m in the south of France, nothing makes me happier than spending the day by the ocean, taking in the salty breeze and strolling along the littoral. After a long afternoon on the beach, as I make my way home, I always notice prickly pear cacti scattered throughout the local fauna.

Prickly pear cacti are everywhere in the south of France, where I’m from. My mom, who grew up in Corsica, used to tell me stories about how she’d collect and eat the fruit as a kid. So, naturally, last summer, when I spotted some growing along the path home from the beach, I figured—why not try one myself?

Big mistake.

Without gloves (rookie move), I grabbed one with my bare hands. The next 20 minutes were spent with my friends painstakingly plucking hundreds of tiny, nearly invisible needles out of my fingertips. The pain wasn’t unbearable, but watching my hands transform into a pincushion was… unsettling. And to top it all off? The fruit wasn’t even ripe.

For the longest time, I just assumed prickly pears were native to the Mediterranean. They grow everywhere, you can buy them at local markets, and my mom spoke about them like they were an age-old Corsican tradition. But a few weeks ago, while researching cochineal bugs (parasitic insects that live on prickly pear cacti), I discovered something surprising—prickly pears aren’t native to the south of France at all. They actually originate from Central and South America, and were introduced to the Mediterranean from the Americas centuries ago. They’ve since become naturalized.

Curious to learn more, I dove into the biology of prickly pears—and it turns out, these cacti are far more than just a tasty (and slightly dangerous) snack. Their survival strategies, adaptations, and ecological impact make them one of the most fascinating plants out there.

Prickly Pear Cactus Fruit
Credit: Maciej Cisowski via Pexels

Prickly pear cacti belong to the Cactaceae family, and they’re absolute survivors. In spring and summer, they produce vibrant flowers that bloom directly on their paddles, eventually transforming into edible berries covered in sneaky little thorns (trust me, I learned that the hard way).

These cacti thrive in drylands but adapt surprisingly well to different climates. They prefer warm summers, cool dry winters, and temperatures above -5°C (23°F).Their ability to store water efficiently and withstand long dry periods has earned them the nickname ‘the camel of the plant world.’ They can lose up to 80-90% of their total water content and still bounce back, an adaptation that allows them to endure long periods of drought.

They are designed to make the most of their access to water whenever they get the chance. The cactus can develop different types of roots depending on what they need to survive, making them masters of adaptation. One of their coolest tricks? “Rain roots.” These special roots pop up within hours of light rainfall to soak up water—then vanish once the soil dries out.

And then there are their infamous spines. Prickly pears have two kinds: large protective spines and tiny, hair-like glochids. The glochids are the real troublemakers—easily dislodged, nearly invisible, and an absolute nightmare to remove if they get stuck in your skin. (Again, learned this the hard way.)

Nopal (Cactus Pads) – A Nutrient Powerhouse

The term “nopal” refers to both the prickly pear cactus and its pads. It originates from the Nahuatl word nohpalli, which specifically describes the plant’s flat, fleshy segments.

These pads are highly nutritious and well-suited for human consumption, packed with essential vitamins and minerals. They are especially rich in calcium, making them an excellent dietary alternative for populations with high rates of lactose intolerance, such as in India.

Beyond calcium, nopales also provide amino acids and protein, offering a valuable plant-based protein source. They are rich in fiber, vitamins, and minerals, making their nutritional profile comparable to fruits like apples and oranges, explaining their long-standing role in traditional cuisine. From soups and stews to salads and marmalades, they are a versatile ingredient enjoyed in a variety of dishes

Ever wondered how to clean and grill a prickly pear pad at home?

The Fruit – Sweet & Versatile

Prickly pears produce colorful, juicy fruits called tunas, which range in color from white and yellow to deep red and orange as they ripen. Their flavor is often described as a mix between watermelon and berries, while others compare it to pomegranate. Either way, they make for a delicious and refreshing snack.

But before you take a bite, be sure to peel them carefully. If you don’t remove the outer layer properly, you might end up with tiny spines lodged in your lips, tongue, and throat (which is about as fun as it sounds). Once cleaned, the fruit is used in jams, juices, and is even pickled!

Credit: Emilio Sánchez Hernández via Pexels

Prickly pear cacti produce stunning flowers that attract a variety of pollinators, particularly bees. Some specialist pollinators have evolved to depend exclusively on prickly pear flowers as their sole pollen source, highlighting an amazing co-evolutionary relationship. One fascinating example is a variety that has evolved to be pollinated exclusively by hummingbirds, demonstrating the plant’s remarkable ecological flexibility.

If you’d like to see this incredible interaction for yourself, check out the following footage of a hummingbird feeding on a prickly pear flower. Though the video quality is low, the enthusiasm of the couple filming it makes up for it! 🙂

Another fascinating feature of prickly pear flowers are their thermotactic anthers. Okay so yeah, that’s a bit of a mouthful. Basically, the part of the flower responsible for producing pollen, the anthers, have a unique ability to respond to temperature changes—releasing pollen only when conditions are just right for pollination. Prickly pear flowers achieve this through movement; the anthers physically curl over to deposit pollen directly onto visiting pollinators.

You can even see this in action yourself! Try gently tapping an open flower, and watch as it instinctively delivers its pollen like a built-in pollen delivery system.

Once pollinated, the flowers transform into fruit, which then serve as an essential food source for birds and small mammals. These animals help disperse the seeds, allowing new cacti to grow in different areas. But prickly pears don’t just rely on seeds for reproduction, they also have an incredible ability to clone themselves. If a pad breaks off and lands in the right conditions, it can root itself and grow into an entirely new cactus. Talk about resilience!

Like most cacti, prickly pears are tough survivors, thriving even in degraded landscapes. But they go a step further, not just enduring harsh conditions, but actively helping to restore them. The plant’s roots act as natural barriers, preventing erosion, locking in moisture, and enriching the soil with organic matter. Studies show that areas dense with prickly pears experience significantly less soil degradation, proving their role in restoring fragile land.

They also improve soil structure, making it lighter and more fertile, which boosts microbial activity and essential nutrients. They act as natural detoxifiers, absorbing pollutants like heavy metals and petroleum-based toxins and offering an eco-friendly way to restore contaminated soils.

Roots of the prickly pear cactus.
Credit: Homrani Bakali, Abdelmonaim, et. al, 2016

A Tale of Two Ecosystems

Prickly pear plantations are powerful carbon sinks, pulling CO₂ from the air and storing it in the soil. In fact, research shows that prickly pear cultivations in Mexico sequester carbon at rates comparable to forests. A major factor? The cactus stimulates microbial activity in the soil, a key driver of carbon storage.

When farmed sustainably, the CO₂ prickly pears absorb offset the greenhouse gases emitted during cultivation.

Prickly pear cacti have immense capability for land restoration and carbon sequestration, but this potential varies dramatically depending on how they are introduced and managed, and where. In some regions, like Ethiopia, they serve as a lifeline for communities facing desertification. In others, like South Africa, they’ve become invasive, disrupting native ecosystems.

By exploring these two contrasting case studies, we can see how the same plant can either heal or harm the land—and why responsible management is key.

Tigray, Ethiopia: A Natural Fit for Harsh Climates

In Ethiopia, where over half the land experiences water shortages, the prickly pear cactus has become indispensable since its introduction in the 19th century. Arid lands are notorious for unpredictable rainfall, prolonged droughts, and poor soils. But the prickly pear cactus defies these challenges. Requiring minimal water, it provides a reliable food source for both humans and animals, making it an essential crop for small-scale farmers in dry regions.

Prickly pear pads are a crucial livestock feed during droughts, providing moisture and nutrients when other forage is scarce. While it cannot be used as the sole source of nutrition for most ruminants, it’s definitely a necessary supplement in times of drought.

Additionally, the plant’s dense growth creates natural barriers, curbing overgrazing and helping native vegetation recover.

As a food source, prickly pear can be used to supplement human diet. The cactus is an alternative to water-intensive cereals like wheat and barley. With higher biomass yields and significantly lower water requirements, it offers a sustainable solution to food security in drought-prone areas.

Unfortunately, prickly pear cultivation in Ethiopia is under threat from invasive cochineal infestations. These cochineal insects, originally used for dye production, were later introduced outside their native range, where they’ve become agricultural pests, devastating cactus populations.

A cactus infested by cochineal insects
Credit: tjeerddw (CC-BY-NC)

South Africa: When Prickly Pear Becomes a Problem

While the cactus is a valuable resource in some regions, in others, it becomes an invasive species, altering ecosystems and threatening native plants.

In South Africa, prickly pears were introduced by European settlers, but without natural predators to control them, they spread aggressively. Today, they dominate large areas, outcompeting native vegetation and consuming scarce resources like water and soil nutrients. Their dense growth also creates impenetrable thickets that hinder livestock grazing and disrupt local ecosystems.

To control its spread, South Africa turned to biological solutions, ironically using the same cochineal insect that threatens Ethiopia’s prickly pear. In South Africa, cochineal insects have been highly effective at curbing cactus overgrowth, selectively feeding on the invasive species and allowing native plants to recover.

This dual role of the prickly pear cactus—as both a valuable resource and a potential ecological threat—highlights the importance of responsible management. Striking a balance between conservation and cultivation is key to harnessing the plant’s benefits while preventing unintended environmental consequences.

Innovative Uses: From Energy to Eco-Friendly Materials

The prickly pear’s resilience extends beyond its survival in harsh environments—it’s also fueling innovation in sustainability. Scientists and entrepreneurs are finding new ways to harness this plant’s potential, from renewable energy to eco-friendly materials.

In the search for cleaner energy sources, prickly pear biomass is being used to produce biogas and bioethanol, offering a renewable alternative to fossil fuels. Unlike resource-intensive crops, the cactus thrives with minimal water, making it a low-impact solution for sustainable energy. Meanwhile, its juice is being explored as a base for biodegradable plastics. Unlike corn-based bioplastics, which require significant land and water resources, cactus-based plastics are more sustainable and continue growing after harvesting, reducing environmental strain.

Cactus leather, developed by companies like Desserto, provides a sustainable alternative to synthetic and animal-based materials. Unlike traditional vegan leather, which often contains petroleum-based plastics, cactus leather is biodegradable, water-efficient, and durable. As more industries embrace the potential of this remarkable plant, the prickly pear is proving that sustainability and innovation can go hand in hand.

From nourishing communities to restoring degraded land, and generating clean energy, the prickly pear is far more than just a desert plant—it’s a symbol of resilience, innovation, and sustainability. However, its impact depends on careful management. Whether cultivated as a food source or controlled as an invasive species, striking the right balance is key to unlocking its full potential.

And if this article has inspired you to try a prickly pear fruit for yourself, please stick to the store-bought varieties. Unlike wild varieties, cultivated prickly pears are often spineless, making them easier (and safer) to eat. Plus, it would give me, the author, peace of mind knowing that no one has to suffer the same fate I did when I ended up with a hand full of spines after an ill-fated foraging attempt.

Lakhena Park holds degrees in Public Policy and Human Rights Law but has recently shifted her focus toward sustainability, ecosystem restoration, and regenerative agriculture. Passionate about reshaping food systems, she explores how agroecology and land management practices can restore biodiversity, improve soil health, and build resilient communities. She is currently preparing to pursue a Permaculture Design Certificate (PDC) to deepen her understanding of regenerative practices. Fun fact: Pigs are her favorite farm animal—smart, playful, and excellent at turning soil, they embody everything she loves about regenerative farming.

Sources and Further Reading

Featured Creature: Mexican Wolf

I prowl the woods, both fierce and lean,
With golden eyes and coat unseen.
Once a ghost upon the land,
Now brought back by careful hand.
Who am I, wild and free,
Yet bound by fate and history?

Many moons ago, for two years during college and one year after, I worked at the Columbus Zoo & Aquarium in central Ohio (for those keeping score at home, that’s Jack Hanna’s zoo. Yes I met him.)

I spent thousands of hours over hundreds of days at that zoo. I got to know every path, every Dippin’ Dots stand, and every habitat under the zoo’s care.

The Columbus Zoo & Aquarium has an incredible collection of creatures (they’re one of the only institutions outside of Florida with manatees). While I was enamored with all of them, my favorite were the Mexican Wolves, a critically imperiled species.

In a place full of more diversity and creatures than I could ever count, the zoo’s Mexican wolves were different. As part of the (American) Association of Zoos and Aquariums’ Species Survival Plan, a nationwide conservation effort. There were excellent educators of the impact one creature can have on an ecosystem, and what can happen when we don’t take care of them.

A Mexican Wolf at the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium.
Credit: JCaputo via Flickr. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

A Predator on the Brink

The Mexican wolf (Canis lupus baileyi) is both the rarest and most genetically distinct subspecies of the more well known gray wolf. It is notably smaller than its northern relatives, with adults weighing standing about two feet tall at the top of the shoulder. Despite this (relatively) diminutive stature, the Mexican wolf is an apex predator in its environment, finely tuned by evolution for survival in the rugged, often unforgiving landscapes of the southwestern United States and northern Mexico.

Consider those landscapes for a moment. What does it take for a species already up against the ropes to survive there? What would it take for you to survive there?

You’d have to have exceptional endurance to hunt in vast, open environments. Long, slender legs and a streamlined body would allow you to cover these great distances while tracking prey, often over the course of 30 miles in a single day. You’d require an acute sense of smell and keen eyesight to pick up on the movements of smaller creatures from far away, even in the dim light of dawn or dusk when your prey is most active.

You’d be an expert of efficient thermoregulation, that is, keeping cool in the heat and warm in the cold. And you’d have to be, an expert, when your world ranges from scorching desert heat to bitter mountain cold, these wolves have developed a double-layered coat that provides insulation in winter while shedding excess warmth in summer. The coat’s coloration, a mixture of gray, rust, and buff, serves as excellent camouflage against the rocky and forested landscapes they inhabit.

A Wolf’s Role

It’s old news to you, I know, but it bears repeating. For ecosystems to function, predators must play their part. Like other wolves, the Mexican wolf is a keystone species, regulating prey populations and influencing plant communities. Without them, the system unravels.

The Mexican wolf primarily hunts elk, white-tailed deer, mule deer, and occasionally livestock, but they will also take smaller mammals like rabbits and rodents when such larger prey is scarce. When they hunt, they do so together, as cooperative pack hunters. Their strong social structure is as essential a tool as their razor sharp incisors in felling prey much larger than themselves. Beyond the hunt, these [ack dynamics are critical to their survival—each member has a role, from rearing the pups learning the ropes to experienced hunters leading coordinated chases.

Both on the hunt and at home, communication is central to the wolves’ social structure. Howling serves as both a bonding ritual and a way to locate packmates over vast distances. Body language, like tail positioning and ear movement, helps maintain hierarchy within the group. You may even recognize a few of these traits in your own dog, barking or howling to communicate, using their tail and ears to express emotion, or learning through playful wrestling as a puppy.

Packs are tight-knit, usually number four to six members, though some may grow larger depending on prey availability. They establish territories spanning up to 200 square miles, marking them with scent and vocalizing to warn off intruding wolves and other creatures.

A Mexican wolf and her pup.
Image by Bob Haarmans, CC BY 2.0

In the absence of wolves, prey populations, especially elk and deer, explode, stripping vegetation and weakening forests. Overgrazed lands mean fewer young trees, degraded soil, less cover for smaller animals and heightened wildfire risk. This domino effect, known more scientifically as trophic cascade, ripples through the entire ecosystem. Beavers lose the young saplings they rely on for food and dams. Birds struggle to find nesting spots. Streams warm without tree cover, altering aquatic life.

But when wolves return, balance begins to restore itself. Just ask Yellowstone National Park. Wolves keep elk and deer moving, preventing over-grazing in sensitive areas. Carcasses left behind provide food for scavengers, including ravens, eagles, foxes, and even bears. Their presence reshapes the landscape, not just through their actions but through the fear they instill in prey. They don’t just hunt; they change the way the river of life flows.

A Fragile Comeback

Conservation and reintroduction of Mexican wolves has been an uphill, if slightly progressive, endeavor since the first captive-bred wolves were reintroduced into Arizona and New Mexico in 1998.

Ranchers in the area saw them as a renewed threat to livestock, and illegal killings were common practice. Some reintroduced wolves were shot before they had a chance to establish packs. Others were relocated after venturing too close to human settlements and industry.

Populations have grown slowly. From a low of just seven wolves in 1980, there are now about 250-300 Mexican wolves in the wild today. This precarious population is still critically small, vulnerable to disease, low genetic variation, and continued conflict with humans.

Climate change has also complicated things.

Rising temperatures are altering the Mexican wolf’s habitat. More frequent and severe droughts in the American Southwest threaten prey availability, pushing elk and deer into different ranges. Increased wildfires, driven by hotter, drier, and more flammable conditions, destroy the forests that wolves depend on for cover and prey.

Mexican Wolf experimental population area map. Courtesy U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

Last Word

I know zoos can be complicated, controversial places at times. I’m not really here to weigh in on that. But I think like many things in life, there is great value in the best parts of them. As we all continue to advocate for a less-extractive relationship with the rivers of life beyond our front door, I think the ability to educate, connect, and inspire others to care about the world around them is critically important. I saw the Columbus Zoo do that well time and time again, and I think every time we share a featured creature, post a picture of our gardens, or take someone along for a Miyawaki planting, we do the same.

Brendan Kelly began his career teaching conservation education programs at the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium. He is interested in how the intersection of informal education, mass communications and marketing can be retooled to drive relatable, accessible climate action. While he loves all ecosystems equally, he is admittedly partial to those in the alpine.

Featured Creature: Pika

What creature is mall and round
and with a shrill sound
it nests in the ground,
where it hopes not to be found?

The Pika! (Ochotona)

The American Pika has a short, stocky body with large round ears and short legs. Don’t be fooled by this adorable ball of fur and ears. The pika is a hardy creature, one of the only mammals, in fact, that is able to survive its entire life in alpine terrain. The intensity of alpine environments makes it difficult for animals to thrive. The pika is believed to have originated in Asia, where 28 out of the 30 species of the lagomorph still reside. Fossil remains of ancient pika date back to over 15 million years ago, and are thought to have traveled from Asia to North America in the Miocene epoch, across the Bering land bridge.

Lagomorphs, not rodents

As a guinea pig owner, the pika first drew my attention due to its resemblance to my beloved pets. Despite its guinea-pig and mouse-like appearance, however, the pika is not, in fact, a rodent. Instead, the pika is a lagomorph, sharing the title with rabbits and hares. The pika is the smallest lagomorph, with most weighing between 125 and 200 grams, and measuring about 15 cm in length. Unlike rodents, lagomorphs have a second, smaller pair of incisors located directly behind the first. In addition to their second pair of front teeth, lagomorphs produce two separate kinds of feces, drops that are both solid and round, or black soft pellets. The soft feces contain up to five times as many vitamins as the solid droppings, and after their production are re-consumed to utilize their nutritional value. The purpose of this process is to allow the animal to access the nutrients that its body was unable to absorb upon its first digestion, an important adaptation for life in their lives in an unforgiving alpine environment.

Where do they live?

Pika squeaking (Wikimedia Commons by Vickie J Anderson)

The pika reside in two very distinct and separate places, depending on the specific species. While some live in rocky, alpine terrains, others prefer to burrow in meadows. The American pika inhabits the former, on the treeless, rocky slopes of mountains, found in mountainous areas of the Sierra Nevada and the Rocky Mountains in both Canada and the United States. These pikas are social creatures, and gather to live in colonies together. These colonies provide the pikas with protection, as at any sign of danger they will squeak a warning call to their colony, a sound which is represented in the following video. Although they live together, pikas are territorial of their own den. Each pika’s den is built into the crevasse of the rocky environment, and the pika will also emit territorial cries to keep their fellow pikas away.

The pika’s breeding season is in the spring, when their aggression and territorial feelings reach a low. This change in disposition allows the creatures to mate with their den’s closet neighbor. Pika gestation lasts 30 days, and litters of one to four are born blind and hairless, to be cared for by their mother. The young pikas grow quickly, and reach adulthood in just 40 to 50 days, and adult pikas have an average lifespan of about three years. Mother pikas generally birth two litters of babies each summer, but the first litter tends to have a higher survival rate.

The American pika varies from brown to black in fur color, resembling the rocky terrain that it inhabits. Their thick coat of fur, which keeps them warm in the cold winter months, thins during the summer, allowing some relief from the summer heat. Pikas are active year-round, and do not hibernate. Instead, the pika seeks shelter within the cracks and crevices of their rocky terrain, remaining warm through the insulation of heavy snow. In addition, the American Pika makes sure to take precautions in order to prepare for the tough winter months, when grasses and wildflowers are sparse.

Winter is Coming

To prepare for harsh winter months, the pika gathers its favorite foods, grasses, weeds, and wildflowers, carrying its harvest in its mouth before depositing it into a hidden pile. This collection process is called haying, and the pikas store their clippings in crevices and under boulders, where they dry out over time. Haying allows the dry grasses to be stored for long periods of time in the pika’s den without growing moldy, perfect for saving a snack for the winter. During the summer, haying becomes the pikas primary activity, and each individual haystack can grow to be quite large in size.

American Pika with a mouthful of flowers (Wikimedia Commons by Frédéric Dulude-de Broin)

A little sweet and sour, pikas also participate in kleptoparasitism, stealing precious resources from already existing haystacks. They reach peak aggression in the summer months, desperate to defend their dens and haystacks from thieving neighbors. And for good reason–because they don’t really hibernate, the pika’s winter survival hinges on its successful haying season. In order to survive the winter, one pika needs approximately 30 pounds of plant material stored. That’s a lot! Each pika may have multiple haystacks, spread out throughout its individual territory. Usually, they focus their energy on one specific haystack, which over time can grow to be two feet in height and two feet in diameter.

American Pika haystacking (Wikimedia Commons by Jane Shelby Richardson)

Up, up, up

The pika has made its home among the rugged, wind-scoured peaks of Asia and North America’s mountain ranges, thriving in an environment too harsh for most creatures. But something is changing.

As summers grow hotter and snowpacks thin out, the pika’s alpine world is shrinking. The tiny mammals, perfectly adapted to the cold, are being driven higher and higher up the slopes, chasing the last pockets of cool, livable habitat. A pika cannot sweat or pant to cool itself down; instead, when temperatures climb above 78°F, it faces a simple but devastating choice—find shade or perish.

Historically, pikas have lived at elevations as low as 5,700 feet, but now, scientists are tracking their ascent to over 8,300 feet, seeking relief from the relentless heat. But mountains have their limits. What happens when the pika reaches the summit, and there is nowhere left to climb?

We’re already starting to find out. In the Great Basin region of the western United States, seven out of twenty-five pika populations have vanished, unable to adapt fast enough to their rapidly changing circumstances. Without deep winter snows to insulate their rocky dens, some freeze in the cold months, while others struggle to gather enough food as their growing season shifts unpredictably.

The pika’s journey upward is a silent alarm, a warning from one of nature’s smallest mountaineers.

Helena Venzke-Kondo is a student at Smith College pursuing psychology, education, and environmental studies. She is particularly interested in conversation psychology and the reciprocal relationship between people and nature. Helena is passionate about understanding how communities are impacted by climate change and what motivates people towards environmental action. In her free time, she loves to crochet, garden, drink tea, and tend to her houseplants.

Sources and Further Reading:

Featured Creature: Yucca

What plant can also be used as a soap,
but without a certain insect, simply could not cope?

Yucca!

On a dreary, gray day at school, as I hurried from one academic building to another, I spotted a patch of spiky green shrubs, sticking out like a sore thumb. These plants gave me pause because though they were a familiar sight, I had last seen them in the high desert of Mancos, Colorado, a very different setting than my New England college campus, some 3,000 miles away. How did they get here? I wondered, and how are they thriving in an environment so different from the one I had last seen them in?

There are about 30 species of yucca, most of which are native to North and Central America. The yucca that I recognized on my campus walk was soapweed yucca, also known as great plains yucca. Soapweed yucca is a shrub with narrow leaves, almost knife-like in their sharpness, which can grow up to 3 feet tall. Soapweed yucca grows in the dry, rocky soils of short grass prairies and desert grasslands and thrives in more arid biomes. Still, it can be found across the United States; the yucca’s thick, rhizomatous roots (horizontal underground stems that send out both shoots and roots) allow the plant to thrive in many environments with different soils, including sand. It is a hardy plant, and can tolerate cold and moderate wetness, hence its ability to survive on my college campus in the Northeastern United States.

The shrub received its name, soapweed, due to the saponin contained in its roots. Saponin is a naturally occurring substance in plants that foams upon contact with water, creating a natural soap, which is something that I wish I had known as I camped feet away from the yucca in Colorado. In addition to its cleansing properties, the saponin has a strong bitter taste, and is used by plants, such as the yucca, as a deterrent against hungry insects and animals alike. For humans however, these characteristics make it an attractive partner. These saponin can be turned into sudsy cleansing soap. This process has been used by indigenous peoples for hundreds of years, and is modeled in the video below.

The flower and root of the yucca plant have been used as a nutritional, and tasty snack for centuries. As we learned earlier, the roots and flowers of yucca contain saponin, which, while offering medicinal and hygiene benefits, can be toxic or harmful if not properly prepared for consumption. When consumed, the saponin has a bitter taste, and can cause a burning sensation in the throat. However, if properly prepared, the yucca flower and root can be used in a variety of different recipes. The following video shows the proper way to prepare, and eat, yucca flowers.

In addition to eating the flowers of the yucca plant, the root holds incredible nutritional and medicinal benefit. Roots were used in a salve for sores and rubbed on the body to treat skin diseases. The sword shaped leaves of the yucca plant could also be split into long strips to be weaved into useful cords. Due to the strong fibers contained in the leaves, yucca could be stripped into thread to fashion baskets, fishing nets, and clothing.

The Yucca Moth

During the spring months, from the center of mature soapweed yucca blooms a beautiful stalk of cream colored flowers. At the same time as the yucca flower blooms, an insect called the yucca moth emerges from its cocoon. The yucca moth is small, and white in color, closely resembling a petal of the yucca flower, which allows the insect to blend in with the blossoms. There is a powerful symbiotic relationship between the yucca plant, and the yucca moth, meaning that two organisms have a long term, mutually beneficial biological relationship.

Yucca moths in flowers
(WikiCommons by Judy Gallager)

After breaking out of their cocoons, the male and female yucca moths find their way to the blossoms of the yucca flower, where they mate. The female yucca moth then gathers pollen from the yucca, flying to different plants which ensures the cross pollination of the plant. She shapes the pollen into a large lump, which she holds underneath her chin as she travels, searching for the proper flower to lay her eggs. This ball of pollen can reach up to three times the size of her head! Once located, she lays her eggs in the ovary of the yucca’s flower. She then deposits her collection of pollen onto the stigma of the flower, pollinating the yucca, which will now produce fruit and seeds for her larvae to feed off of. The larvae mature before they can
consume all of the yucca’s viable seeds, allowing
the yucca to continue to reproduce.

Flowering yucca
(pixabay by Thanasis Papazacharias)

Leaving her larvae, the eggs grow for a few weeks on their own. Once they reach the right size, the larvae drops from the yucca flowers to the ground, where it burrows underground and forms its cocoon. The lifespan of a yucca moth is only about a year, and the majority of that time is spent in the pupal, or cocoon stage, under the earth. Once an adult moth has mated, it marks the end of their brief life as adult moths. Once underground, the insect will remain in this cocoon in a dormant state until next spring, when the yucca flower begins to blossom, and the cycle continues.

The yucca moth is the primary pollinator of yucca plants, and its larvae depend on yucca seeds as a key food source. While the relationship is highly specialized, some yucca species can self-pollinate to a limited extent, and other insects, such as bees, may occasionally contribute to pollination. Without one, the other simply would certainly struggle to survive as they do today. Although yucca moths are native to the southwest areas of North America, as yuccas have expanded across the country, some species of yucca moths have also spread, although their distribution remains closely tied to the presence of their specific yucca host plants.

Perhaps the soapweed yucca that I stumbled across in New England autumn already had cocoons of yucca moths, lying hidden and dormant beneath my feet.

Sources and Further Reading:

Featured Creature: Cheatgrass

What plant plays an important role in the grasslands of its native hemisphere, but alters soil moisture and fire regimes when introduced in North America?

Cheatgrass (Bromus tectorum)!

A cheatgrass seed had needled its way into my skin again. I thought that I had freed myself of the cheatgrass when I came back east, to the land of ample water and broad leaves, and threw all of my camping gear into a dark corner of my bedroom. This was not so – it was hiding out in my sock drawer. When I pulled up my socks, I dragged the pointed tips of the cheatgrass seeds up my ankles, and I was once again somewhere out west, nursing the delicate white surface wounds that they left. I was, for the first time, not grateful for the tight warmth-trapping weave of my wool hiking socks – it is highly adept at locking the lance-like grass seed into a comfortable chamber from which it can prod at my ankles. The cheatgrass survived the washer and the dryer and my prying fingernails, survived my desperate attempts to wrench it out of my socks and into the campfire. Cheatgrass burns fantastically well– it’ll ignite from marshmallow-toasting-distance and beyond.

My cheatgrass came with me from Wyoming months ago. Out there, it rolled for miles across the sagebrush steppe, slowly but surely creeping into every space between every shrub. The site where I gathered the seeds into my socks smelled more of earth than sagebrush, which was unusual for the basins where I’d been working. My boss Rachel and I hopped down out of our work truck and took in our site: some sagebrush, sure, but only a few dashes of it scattered between rolling hills of crisp, flame-red cheatgrass. The site was nearly silent; I found myself missing the usual distant whirrr of farm machinery and the cacophonous cry of a startled sage grouse. We were instead accompanied by the whistling of wind and the knowledge that we would be blowing dust into our handkerchiefs for a few days.

The Sagebrush Steppe near Big Jacks Creek Wilderness, Idaho, has been almost entirely taken over by cheatgrass.

“Downy Brome”

Some call cheatgrass “downy brome”, which is a perfect term for it in the early spring when it hasn’t grown into its wretchedness. In early spring, when its long awns have not yet grown stiff and sharp, it is a soft and elegant plant. Its leaves fall in a gentle cascade from the long stem. The downy brome rolls over hillsides and whispers to its sisters in the breeze; as they dry in late summer, the wind knocks the heads of their seeds against one another, and they are scattered to the ground to start their cycle anew. When the cool season rains end and they’ve sucked up all the water they can from the parched earth, their chloroplasts finally falter, and the grass turns a faint purple-red from the awn-tip up. In spring, the dusty green tones of the sagebrush and the brightly-colored grass dapple the landscape. By summer, the sagebrush is nearly overtaken by an orange-brown, foreshadowing the fire which cheatgrass so often fuels. The grass sticks its seeds through your shoes and between your toes and into your socks and the hems of your pants. It doesn’t matter if you stop to pull them out– you will have just as many jabbing and nudging away at you after you walk another ten feet through their swaying abundance. It is useless to shake them out, too. You must pull them, piece by piece, out of your hair and your tent and your boots, and cast them to the ground. This is just what they wish for– you are seeding them for next year.

A rugged invader

Humans introduced cheatgrass to the Northeastern United States by accident sometime around 1860. You can find it in many places around New England, but in the presence of such an overwhelming amount of water, it often fails to compete with its fellow grasses and is relegated to cracks in sidewalks and highway islands full of compacted, inhospitable soil. Cheatgrass seems lost on this coast; few in the East know what it is or why it’s here. It is a plant surviving as plants do, regardless of the “invasive” status we’ve thrust upon it. In the West, however, its success is something wicked and wonderful.

Any water from the winter’s snowmelt or early spring rains gets sucked up by the eager roots of the cheatgrass, leaving little for the still-sprouting native grasses, forbes, and shrubs, even as their taproots probe deep into the earth. Ecologists curse the plant for its brutal efficiency in driving out those native to the arid steppe; birders lament the loss of woody habitat for their feathered favorites; ranchers sigh at the sight of yet another dry, nutritionally-deficient plant that even their toughest cow is loath to graze. And there is, of course, the fire. Cheatgrass dies and dries in the early summer, long before native grasses do, providing an early fuel source for the ever-lengthening fire season.

Cheatgrass seeds
Jose Hernandez, USDA (Public Domain via Wikicommons)

The seeds lie in wait in the earth, and in the spring, they unfurl their new leafy heads and emerge from between blackened sagebrush branches. In the grass’s native range in Europe and Southwestern Asia, the plant is no worse or better than any other; it just is. Moths and butterflies lay their eggs along its edges. Ungulates nibble it slowly as their eyes each search opposite directions for the next snack.

Nearly all of the existing research on the plant explores its role far from home, in the United States. It is grass, and it would be hard to imagine that here on the other side of the world, some field tech is cursing its very existence. You’d never know from looking at the cheatgrass that ranchers and federal scientists alike have spent years dousing their own lands in herbicides with the hope of its extirpation. We humans have of course played our role in keeping the cheatgrass strong even as we try to drive it out, since cheatgrass, like many invasives, is far better at taking over already-disturbed soils where the native plant communities and biological soil crusts have been weakened. As extreme wildfires, agricultural use, overgrazing, and the general ravages of climate change continue to impact larger and larger regions, so too does the invasive capacity of the cheatgrass.

I wore a different pair of socks hiking that day for fear of bringing more cheatgrass to Connecticut. It was silly, though; the cheatgrass already knows this land well.

Jasmine

Jasmine Gormley is an environmental scientist, writer, and advocate from New Hampshire. She holds a BS in Environmental Studies from Yale, where she conducted research in plant community ecology and land management. She aims to obtain a degree in environmental law. As a first-generation college student, she is passionate about equity in educational and environmental access, and believes that environmental justice and biodiversity conservation are often one and the same. In her spare time, you can find her rock climbing, foraging, and going for cold water swims.

Sources and Further Reading:

Featured Creature: Gila Monster

What creature has a venomous bite and is uniquely adapted to survive harsh desert terrain?

The Gila monster!

Image by Josh Olander CC BY 4.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Be not afraid! The Gila monster is not a monster at all, but rather a unique lizard with special adaptations. This reptile is native to North America’s Southwest region including Arizona, Utah, Nevada, and Northwest Mexico. It is so named because of its discovery by herpetologist and paleontologist, Edward Drinkerin, in the Gila River basin.

The Gila monster is a lizard of substantial size, weighing about 1.5 – 3 pounds and clocking in at over 1 foot long. Males are characterized by their larger heads and tapering tails, while females have smaller heads and thicker tails. Its black and orange skin is easily identifiable and comes in two patterns – banded and reticulated. The banded and reticulated Gila monsters are recognized as two distinct subspecies.

Reticulate Gila Monster (Image by Jeff Servoss, Public domain via Wikimedia Commons)

Desert Dweller

This creature is suited for hot, arid environments like the Sonoran and Mojave deserts, where tough skin is needed for a tough landscape. The Gila monster’s beaded skin is created by osteoderms, small bumps of bone beneath its thick skin, that armor the lizard against predators and the harsh terrain.

When desert temperatures soar over 105 degrees Fahrenheit (or 40.5 degrees C), even the Gila monster needs shelter from the sun. Like all reptiles, the Gila monster is cold-blooded and cannot regulate its body temperature on its own. So when it gets too hot, the monster needs to retreat to a shady place to cool down – a burrow. Gila monsters are equipped with long claws to dig burrows in the sand. These lizards spend 95% of their time underground to avoid scorching heat and will often sleep during the day to hunt at night.

Diverse Diet

Gila monsters prey on insects, birds, small mammals, and frogs. They especially have a preference for eggs and will unearth turtle eggs or raid bird nests. Gila monsters use their forked tongue to process scents and track prey. These carnivorous lizards will climb cacti to devour the eggs of a bird’s nest or even stalk a mouse to its burrow in search of young offspring. In harsh environments, sustenance is difficult to come by so when it gets the chance, the Gila monster can eat 35% of its weight in food. Any unused calories are stored as fat in its tail.

When hunting live prey, it subdues its victim by secreting venom through grooves in its teeth. Venom glands are based in the lower jaw and, unlike snakes that strike and inject venom in seconds, Gila monsters must bite and hold or gnaw their prey to release their venom. They have a very strong bite and can clamp on for over 10 minutes.

While the bite of a Gila monster is painful, it is not deadly to humans. Gila monster venom is most similar to that of the Western diamondback rattlesnake, but the amount of venom released into the wound is much lower. Symptoms from a Gila monster bite include extreme burning pain, dizziness, vomiting, fainting and low blood pressure. Because of their solitary and secretive nature, Gila monster bites are very rare and most cases are from improper handling of these creatures.

Hatchlings

When it comes time to reproduce, female Gila monsters lay 3-20 eggs in their burrows during July. The incubation period for Gila monster eggs can be as long as a human pregnancy, about 9 months. This is unusual as most reptiles incubate their eggs for just 1-2 months. The reason for such a long incubation period is thought to be due to overwintering.

Overwintering is a survival method where hatchlings emerge from their eggs, but not their nest. Gila monster hatchlings stay in their burrow, waiting for weeks to months, for temperatures to rise and food sources to increase. But how can they survive for months without food? Gila monsters are born with fatty tissue in their tails that permits them to forgo consumption. Additionally, they will eat the nutrient-dense yolk from their egg which provides substantial calories.

Baby monsters are just about 5 inches long and look like a miniature version of an adult. When conditions are right, they will leave their burrow to hunt for insects and begin their solitary life in their desert habitat.

Photo by Michael Wifall from Tucson, USA, CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Cultural Significance

The Navajo revere the Gila monster as a strong and sacred figure. The Gila monster is often called the first medicine man and had healing and divining powers. Now, the Gila monster is Utah’s official state reptile and represents Utah’s connection to both its Indigenous culture and wildlife.

Despite the recognition, Gila monsters are listed as ‘Near Threatened’ by the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN). There is an estimated population of several thousand left in the wild. Major threats include habitat loss from increased development and illegal poaching for the pet trade.

Venom of Value

The Gila monster’s venom has been a point of interest in the scientific community. While there is no antivenom for bites, there is hope to utilize its venom for medical use. Scientists discovered that a specific hormone within the Gila monster’s venom can alter the way cells process sugar – a potential cure for diabetes. By isolating this hormone, researchers were able to replicate it synthetically. After years of testing, a new drug to help with Type 2 diabetes was released in 2005 under the name Byetta – all thanks to the existence of the Gila monster.

Even the most unlikely organisms can have a great impact on humanity, which is one of the reasons why it is so important to preserve biodiversity. “Monsters”, allies, or wonders – you be the judge.

Signing off for now,
Joely

Joely Hart is a wildlife enthusiast writing to inspire curiosity about Earth’s creatures. She holds a Bachelor’s degree in creative writing from the University of Central Florida and has a special interest in obscure, lesser-known species.

Sources and Further Reading:
https://www.aboutanimals.com/reptile/gila-monster/
https://blog.kachinahouse.com/the-lizard-in-native-american-culture/
https://www.livescience.com/65093-gila-monsters-photos.html
https://lazoo.org/explore-your-zoo/our-animals/reptiles/gila-monster/
https://www.nhm.ac.uk/discover/the-monster-whose-bite-saves-lives.html
https://kids.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/frym.2019.00017

Featured Creature: Prairie Dog

Have you ever heard of a squirrel that barks?

Let me introduce you to the Prairie Dog.

Sometimes, when walking alone in the high grasslands of the Western United States, you may feel as if you are being watched.

My first encounter with prairie dogs in the wild occurred as I stood in an empty prairie just outside of Badlands National Park in South Dakota. As I meandered along, minding my own business, dozens of furry creatures with beady little eyes appeared, propped themselves up on their hind legs, and began to follow my every step. Prairie dogs are adorable, it is true, but when you see a dozen spread out, standing upright, watching you intently, it can be a bit disconcerting.

They were, however, no threat, and weren’t eyeballing me just to judge me. A prairie dog standing on his hind legs – “periscoping” as it is known – is simply keeping watch for predators. And their distinctive bark? It may sound like “yip,” but it is actually a sophisticated language developed over thousands of years that is still not fully understood by scientists.

Prairie dog barks convey everything about a predator’s size, speed, and location. According to a study at the University of Northern Arizona led by Con Slobodchikoff, Ph.D (see video linked below) pitch, speed, and timbre were all altered in a consistent manner corresponding to the species of predator and the characteristics of each. Certain “yips” could even be interpreted to represent nouns (the threat is “human”), verbs (the “human” is moving toward us), and adjectives (the “human” is wearing an ugly yellow shirt). So now that I think about it, I guess they were judging me, and I am not sure how I feel about that. But still, those are some impressive squirrels.

Wait, did you say squirrels?

Yes.

Squirrels. From the Sciuridae family. Prairie dogs are marmots (or ground squirrels) that bark like a dog, prompting Lewis and Clark to label them “barking squirrels,” which may lack points for creativity but is at least more accurate than calling them “dogs.” Prairie dogs, in fact, have no connection to dogs whatsoever.

Amaury Laporte (CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons)

There are five major species of prairie dog, who all live in North America at elevations between 2,000 and 10,000 feet. The Black-Tailed prairie dog covers the largest territory, filling an extensive region from Montana to Texas. Gunnison’s prairie dogs occupy the southwest near the Four Corners region. White-Tailed prairie dogs reside in Wyoming, Utah, and Colorado. Mexican and Utah prairie dogs belong to Mexico and Utah, respectively, and both are considered endangered.

As you may have observed, prairie dogs live in areas prone to harsh extremes of weather. To protect themselves, they dig extensive burrow networks with multiple entrances, designed to create ventilation, route flood water into empty chambers deep underground, and keep watch for predators. Their burrows connect underground, organized into sections called “coteries,” each of which contains a single-family unit responsible for the maintenance and protection of their area. Multiple coteries become “towns” of startling size and complexity. According to the National Park Service, the largest prairie dog town on record covered 25,000 square miles, bigger than the state of West Virginia!

That IS an impressive squirrel.

Indeed.

Over the years, however, the prairie dog’s range has shrunk, scientists estimate, by as much as 99%, largely because of agriculture. Farmers and ranchers tend to regard prairie dogs as a nuisance, as they sometimes eat crops (they are mostly herbivores) and their holes create a hazard for livestock. They will bulldoze their towns or conduct contest kills to remove them, which has had devastating impacts.

Experts consider prairie dogs to be a keystone species. Their loss affects hundreds of other species who rely on them for food or use their burrows for shelter. They are instrumental in recharging groundwater, regulating soil erosion, and maintaining the soil’s level of production. Prairie dog decline, in fact, eventually leads to desertification of grassland environments.

So, an impressive AND important squirrel?

Yes, and the restoration of prairie dog habitats could be a crucial step in mitigating the effects of climate change.

If you’ve caught prairie dog fever, dive deeper into the resources below. And to learn more about Prairie Dog language, check out this fascinating video:

Hoping one day to converse with my personal prairie dog army,

Mike

Mike Conway is a part-time freelance writer who lives with his wife, kids, and dog Smudge (pictured) in Northern Virginia.

Sources:
https://animals.net/prairie-dog/
Prairie dog – Wikipedia
https://www.humanesociety.org/resources/what-do-about-prairie-dogs
Prairie Dog Decline Reduces the Supply of Ecosystem Services and Leads to Desertification of Semiarid Grasslands | PLOS ONE
Prairie Dogs | National Geographic
Prairie Dogs: Pipsqueaks of the Prairie (U.S. National Park Service) (nps.gov)

Creature: Desert Dwellers

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A Tale of Two Ecosystems

Innovative Uses: From Energy to Eco-Friendly Materials

Sources and Further Reading

Featured Creature: Mexican Wolf

A Predator on the Brink

A Wolf’s Role

A Fragile Comeback

Last Word

Featured Creature: Pika

Where do they live?

Winter is Coming

Up, up, up

Featured Creature: Yucca

The Yucca Moth

Featured Creature: Cheatgrass

“Downy Brome”

A rugged invader

Featured Creature: Gila Monster

Desert Dweller

Diverse Diet

Hatchlings

Cultural Significance

Venom of Value

Featured Creature: Prairie Dog

Wait, did you say squirrels?

That IS an impressive squirrel.

So, an impressive AND important squirrel?

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