As an affectionado of all native plants the world over and in particular of those found within the spectacular Sky Islands Region of southeastern Arizona I sometimes find myself defending the reputation of Desert Broom (Baccharis sarothroides). Despite possessing many wonderful qualities across a broad range of categories, I have met with a good handful of of people who view this well-known species as little more than a tenacious weed in shrub form - a nuisance to be net with all manner of mechanical aids all aimed at its ultimate demise.
I can see where some may acquire a less-than-enlightened view of this handsome species. After all its own success seems to mirror that of our own species, as this opportunistic and pioneer plant often germinates and grows in the wake of humanity. Newly cleared house sites, freshly razed roadways, and even cracks within older pavements are all places where Desert Broom gains footholds and thrives. It ranges from parts of the Sonoran and Chihuahuan Deserts up into the arid grasslands, even infiltrating the lower recesses of creeks spilling out from the mountains - a versatile plant indeed!
It is perhaps the versatility as well as the sheer abundance of Desert Broom in some localities that sometimes offends. We tend, rather, to relish the rare, the grandiose, and odd, and the delicate species found in the plant world. You will rarely hear a discouraging word uttered about a stately Saguaro, a negative explicative directed at a winsome Mariposa Lilly, or a verbal or literal siege laid upon an Ocotillo springing up near a home. These unflattering feelings and the resultant actions are reserved for the seemingly coarse and undistinguished Desert Brooms of the world. Even the so-called "broomy" growth of this species is shared by an apparent legion of both closely and distantly related plants contained within the Aster Family. For those of us so interested in the identification and use of wild plants, these species are sometimes relegated, albeit temporarily, to the "another damn composite" category (referring to the type of flower that many members of the Aster family possess).
You may find it a bit odd, then, that I am here to sing the praises of this much ignored and maligned plant. Those who know me know better already. I am one of those die-hard Nature fanatics who leads the cheer for all native plants, wildlife, and fungi. To me they deserve our admiration and affection, even if it comes after some personal mishaps and after ingesting much bad press and sometimes even outright lies. The lowly Mosquito, stinky Skunks (we boast 4 species in Arizona), homely Vultures, pesky Poison Ivy, painful Harvester Ants, shocking Mala Mujer (a stinging plant), and terrifying Tarantulas are among the species that I hold near and dear to my heart in the Sky Islands. I once found myself defending the honor of Spotted Hyenas as I watched a Nature video with my wife, Claudia. She, understandably, found both their appearance and habits (brute scavengers in marauding packs) to be less than appealing. So it is with many people as, quite honestly, this is literally the sensible thing to think. These species tend to - in one way or another - offend our senses - why would we like them?!
That's why I think that they need more kind words and a warrant a second look - beyond our evolutionarily bound, sometimes knee-jerk reactions. The proverbial "don't judge a book by its cover" concept comes to mind. The Elegant Trogons, Jaguars, Apache Pines, and Great Purple Hairstreaks (a fabulously beautiful Butterfly) of the world have no shortage of defenders and admirers. They elicit as much positive response as the aforementioned species do negative. So, if you are willing to stay with me, here are a few thoughts about Desert Brooms that may change or elevate your opinion of them.
I'll begin with the natural history of the species, which in and of itself is a marvel to behold. After an achene (the parachute-like seed structure common to members of the Aster family) lands in a favorable spot and germinates into a young Desert Broom the life cycle of the species effectively begins. This is also where the species can start to falter in the eyes of those who desire and demand neat and tidy garden and landscaped spaces. In these often disturbed patches, which approximate those found in Nature and which favor Desert Brooms, the horrified homeowner can sometimes find almost countless seedling popping up at every turn. The "I didn't plant this, so it must be a weed" mentality now kicks into full gear, particularly since young Brooms have little to distinguish themselves from a host of other would-be plant invaders.
We are blessed to live on a 42-acre Nature Sanctuary where we treasure every native species, including the plants. When we first purchased the land we inherited a horrible weed-whacked man-made disaster, notably lacking and plant diversity or density around our house. I suppose that the previous owner was either plant or fire phobic or both. Of course its only common sense to avoid an abundance of dry plants very close to a structure, as you are inviting any wild fire to raze it to the ground. The polar opposite attitude, where any plant within a huge radius of the house is subject to anihiliation is just as bad in my opinion. No, your house is very unlikely to suffer any fire damage associated with the outside landscape, though you will feel the brunt of the sometimes brutal southwestern Sun and incessant winds that not only try your patience but which will also eventually wreak havoc upon your now naked dwelling.
Noting the perils of each of these extreme attitudes we tend to trod the middle road, allowing intrepid Desert Brooms to augment and even dominate the native landscaping around our home. Since March of 2007 when we first moved in Desert brooms have risen from the hardest soil in the most disturbed area like a plant version of the proverbial phoenix bird. They now form dense thickets of evergreen abundance over large patches near our house. They have noticeably diminished the sometimes vexing winds, attracted a broad spectrum of native wildlife, and blessed our senses with its attractive shape, colors, and flower-born scents. A wide variety of small birds, including Canyon Towhees and several Sparrow species are among the birds that seem to relish the deep shade and cloaking cover of Desert Brooms, as evidenced by the frequent flushing that occur when we come too close to these hidden realms for the comfort of the birds. The deep green foliage also seems to be a favorite haunt of the equally verdant Praying Mantises that seek their invertebrate prey amongst the dense, needle-like leaves of the Broom. When the Brooms come into flower, however, is when they truly shine as a wildlife plant extraordinaire.
Just so I balance the picture here, we do have many Desert Brooms pop up in less-than-convenient places where we then feel compelled to play plant executioner. It's simply not the most sage of decisions to allow them to grow at the base of your home's foundation, as the roots can likely cause at least some minor damage. Nor do we deem it ideal if a young and robust Broom is rapidly overtaking one of the many native species that we've planted in an effort to rehabilitate and create wildlife habitat. That victory goes to where the money and effort was put! Still, we've had a number of these bought natives benefit from the shade and overall protection of nearby Brooms.
Fast forward to Autumn in the Sky Islands - a time when most other plant species have already flowered, but when Desert Brooms burst forth in a veritable orgy of mating. Both the male and female plants - basically the same sexual arrangement as humans - send out their blooms in a synchronous manner in order to effect the act of pollination. This means that the pollen from the male plants must, by action of wind or animal pollinator, find its way to an awaiting female blossom where it will fertilize an egg, eventually forming a viable seed. Neither flower gender particularly shines in the beauty department according to conventional logic. They are small and a dull white color and, though in abundance, boast only a relatively mild scent.
Apparently the hordes of potential pollinators that descend upon the flowers could care less about what most people think! When Desert Brooms are in full bloom they are a veritable blizzard of insect activity. I liken the spectacle to an ephemeral and diminutive insect version of the Serengeti in Africa. The various wasps and mantids, as well as ambush bugs take the place of lions, hyenas, and leopards - no less fierce and deadly despite their small size. They lay in wait and prowl for diurnal (daytime) moths, butterflies (including the aforementioned and dazzling Great Purple Hairstreak), and a particularly abundant species of Longhorn Beetle that may specialize in feeding at the flowers of Desert Broom. The list of insect species to be found at a patch of flowering Brooms is indeed impressive. Its the type of spectacle that gives even the Nature curmudgeon pause, if only to avoid "all those damn insects!". Since Brooms bloom at a time when few other plants dare brave the increasingly dry autumnal soil conditions and perilously chilly nights, they seem to have nearly "cornered the market" on the available pollinators at that time of year.
So, have I given you reason enough to reconsider the the status of Desert Brooms in your own personal plant hierarchy? Don't worry, I have yet a few more thoughts to share in this vein! In addition to its many wildlife-related benefits, Desert Broom also excels in the eyes of the resourceful herbalist, frugal survivalist, and clever stone-age technologist. I like to wear all of these hats, sometimes simultaneously, so I'll briefly speak to each of them.
The evergreen stems of Desert Broom contain powerful astringents that make them an ideal skin wash for a variety of external ailments. These include sunburn, Poison Ivy dermatitis, and minor wounds. Simply steep the cut or crushed stems in boiling hot water until it cools and use topically. I would not hesitate to mash up the stems between 2 handy rocks to make a paste with which I could treat minor wounds in the field.
In the wilderness survival realm Desert Broom excels as a shelter material. Given that the branches are generally easily broken by hand and that they lack sharp spines or thorns, I consider them an expedient solution to certain shelter challenges. One of these is to create quick shade amidst the searing southwestern Sun. Thus, Desert Broom makes an excellent horizontal shade layer atop ramadas or simply added to the branches of a live or dead tree. The same branches can be used as a bedding layer with which to insulate your body from excessive heat or cold.
The freshly removes fine branches are excellent as a quickie brush for removing the irritating deciduous spines (i.e. glochids) of Prickly Pear fruit and pads, rendering them consumable. These plants often grow in the same localities and make for a convenient juxtaposition of useful plants.
Finally, you can use the dead and dried branches of Desert Broom for fine to medium-sized fuel in your wilderness fires. The wood burns quickly and evenly, providing plenty of light and some modest coals when the blaze has receded. With the normal plethora of dense desert woods that yield long-lasting coals (e.g. Mesquite) having ready access to finer, more flammable fuels is certainly a useful thing.
Perhaps next time you see the "lowly" Desert Broom you'll have reason to take a second glance and to ponder its many unexpected virtues!
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
THE WORLD OF ETHNOBOTANY
I believe that we humans quite naturally gravitate to plants on so many levels. The tree that beckons us to climb its sturdy limbs, the juicy berry that invites a tasting, and the tall grass that would make a great shelter all speak to the universal pull that we experience thanks to wild plants. Why, then, are so many ignorant of this vital realm today? I believe that the answer lies largely in lack of exposure. When adults expose their children to little else than the electronic claptrap and useless baubles of modern society that inundate our lives today they miss an opportunity to help connect these young souls to Nature.
A quick look at most habitable environments on our planet soon reveals that, indeed, plants dominate our world. Even today, while people live increasingly disconnected from Nature, they seem to long for its solace more than ever. We still rely upon plants for our oxygen, for beauty, and for countless resources that make our lives possible. Still, we as a species seem hellbent on destroying that which so obviously supports us. We indeed tend to destroy that which we consider foreign or useless. While there are no easy solutions to reconnecting humans with Nature, I believe that wild plants can play a key role in this process.
Regardless of your age and other interests, I strongly encourage you to venture outside to your nearest wild area with the goal of making the acquaintance of some of your native plant neighbors. Even if you don't know their names, reach out and touch them, smell them, and use all of your senses to immerse yourself into a different reality - one that relies not upon other humans, but rather upon plants. Stepping "out of the box" in this fashion can provide profound insights not only into the plant under your inspection, but also into yourself!
Curiosity goes a long way in introducing yourself to plants and in remembering how to identify them. When people complain that its too difficult to identify wild plants, I point out that they can readily recognize a bevy of domesticated food plants in a supermarket, even if they are unlabeled. If you can tell a peach from a nectarine, an orange from a grapefruit, or a head of lettuce from one of cabbage, then you indeed possess the skills required to distinguish wild useful plants! Of course, one of the best and time-tested ways to learn about plants and their uses is from other, more seasoned people. A few field guides go a long way in this regard, but nothing takes the place of direct teacher-student relationship. Acquiring knowledge about wild plants is likely one of if not the oldest skills possessed by humans - a tradition that runs deep within us.
Soon after identifying a particular plant you may be curious if it is edible, if it might help a Poison Ivy rash, or wonder what other qualities it may possess that could benefit you. There is no magical shortcut in learning this knowledge. Study the plants directly, learn from those more knowledgeable than yourself, and consult field guides when you can and (before you know it) you've learned about a few useful plant species! After several months of applying yourself you may well have a nice list or even journal going of the plants that you learned. To this you can begin to add their uses - not by way of mere repetition from other sources but by trying these things for yourself.
Start basic and small with your first experiments. For example, if you're interested in wild edibles, then perhaps sample some wild blackberries or other familiar fruit before tackling more difficult and potentially dangerous species. If you would like to learn fire by friction (i.e. "rubbing 2 sticks together" to create fire) then first learn a few of the softer, yet strong and resin-free woods of your region even before any rubbing occurs!. Experimentation rarely fails to net interesting results when learning various ethnobotanical skills. Do beware, however, of foolhardy moves in regards to wild edible and medicinal plants, as one key mistake is all that it takes to turn a passion in a postscript! This is yet another reason to study with the experts, who have trod a similar path and are now able to guide you along yours. Good ones are able to help guide you through your learning process in a safe and engaging fashion.
I find myself now in this position of Ethnobotany guide and expert. It has taken me many years to admit this to myself, as I mostly despise the latter term. Many so-called experts lack the first-hand knowledge of their topic and are mere shadows of those that have an in-depth understanding of their passion, born of direct experience. Further, it is the wild plants themselves that are the "stars" of Ethnobotany. The focus should be on them, not on the person teaching about them. So, while I would love to have you as my student, I vow to devote this blog to the plants and not to impressing anyone with what I've done with them. I will speak about my Ethnobotany adventures and my experiences with plants, but hopefully with a humility born of a deep respect for these incredible life-givers.
As I travel in Arizona and throughout the world, I find myself increasingly connected to wild plants. They pervade my life, while enriching it beyond comprehension. When I am surrounded by them, I am enveloped by friends, but when there are few or none around (as in many urban areas) then my soul quickly longs for their beauty, solace, mystery, and familiarity. I know that I will always seek the secret world of plants wherever I find myself.
You too can artfully intertwine your world with that of wild plants. They will be your friends for life, providing you with adventure and challenge whenever you venture to any place with even a remnant of wildness. You don't have to be a professional botanist or scientist to learn them. Just remember that all of us are ethnobotanists with a working knowledge of plants - some are just better than others!
**Take a class, trip, workshop, or internship with RAVENS-WAY WILD JOURNEYS. We offer a wide range of adventures, including Ethnobotany and many related topics!
Check out our website at : www.ravensnatureschool.com
EDIBLE MESQUITE SAP & MESQUITE GIRDLER BEETLES
RAVENS-WAY WILD JOURNEYS
The following narrative gives but a glimpse of how knowing more about the insects of a particular area can translate into being a better Ethnobotanist and Naturalist.....
Every Autumn in the spectacular Sky Islands of southeastern Arizona I look forward to a profound natural event with both humility and hunger. Late Summer and Fall are the times that a species of small Long-horned Beetle covertly descends upon the now lush and unsuspecting Mesquite trees. Velvet Mesquite is the species common where we live, though I suspect that its relatives, Honey Mesquite and Screwbean Mesquite, experience a similar influx. Though it is relatively common to encounter the beetles, the amount of havoc that they wreak upon the branches of the Mesquites is disproportionate to their apparent abundance. In their destructive, though quite natural, wake lies a delicious edible plant part that you can enjoy - more on this later.
After all, how could a small (body ~ 1/2" long; antenna longer than body) insect kill so many branches of a tree noted for the tenacity of its wood? The answer lies in both the anatomy of the Beetle and in the timing of its assault upon the Mesquite branches. In regards to the former, the jaws of the beetle are particularly long and strong, as is the case with most Long-horned Beetle species that I've encountered. They're the type of beetle that give you pause when picking one up, lest those jaws test the integrityof you skin! In the case of the latter, the beetles time their attack so that they are able to girdle (i.e. make a completely encircling cut to) the youngest, most vulnerable branches that grew the previous Spring through current Fall. These youngsters apparently have fewer protections and simply are smaller and easier to girdle than the large ones.
Upon completing this task the death knoll of the particular Mesquite branch in question has been sealed, its life-giving supply of sap having been precipitously and forever cut off. The female Mesquite Girdler Beetle then proceeds to lay a series of eggs in the now sap-poor branch. Flowing sap in a live branch would have likely killed her eggs, hence the need for such a drastic evolutionary strategy to perpetuate the species. The young eventually hatch out of the dead branches to once again perpetuate the cycle of the Mesquite Girdler. This act completed, the adults die and leave the dead branches festooned upon the otherwise live Mesquite tree. Many of these branches easily fall off the tree within a year or two and create a bit of a natural minefield of potent thorns that the intrepid Ethnobotanist must navigate in order to procure the culinary reward afforded by the beetles. Mesquite spines quite easily penetrate all manner of footwear, however impregnable you may deem it!
What is this reward you now ask? Slowly, but surely the girdled wound of the Mesquite exudes a translucent, light amber-colored sap that is designed to seal it against infections and diseases. At first the exudate is merely a thin veneer or small droplet of sap. Eventually, however, some grow to the size of a large grape or so. As you wander through a Mesquite grove in September through December, be it gargantuan trees in a riverside forest or diminutive specimens dotting a grassland, you may begin to notice some of Nature's finest art - amber spheres of light reflecting and refracting the Sun's rays like so many gaudy ornaments. At this moment you have arrived at not only a visual treat, but one that may delight your taste buds as well!
To gather the sap balls, I merely pluck them from their branch stump, noting the level of stickiness that they possess. Early in the gathering season they will, quite naturally, be tackier. and even malleable in your hands. As the Autumn progresses, however, they drier out and take on a more solid form that is even more convenient to gather and store. Be aware, though, that unlike the sap of most conifer trees that I know (e.g. Pines, Cypresses, Junipers, Spruces, & Firs) Mesquite sap is water soluble. Meaning? Namely that they can just as quickly dissolve and disappear after a somewhat unexpected Autumn or early Winter rain storm, as they apparently materialized after the branches were girdled. One storm, then gone! This speaks to one of the Ethnobotanist's and wild forager's main creeds - collect it (when abundant enough) while its there, for tomorrow it may be gone! Still, I always strive to leave some sap behind, not knowing what other sap-eaters may be seeking this treat and wishing to share the feast.
What do I do with these sap nodules? I slowly suck upon them as I wander the incredible wilds of the Sky Islands. They have a rich, yet subtly sweet taste that, unlike candy, never quite gets old. I soon find myself depleting my stores of sap months before they'll be replenished next year. I do store enough to show my students, but am periodically tempted to raid even these meager supplies given my love of the edible oddity.
While I can't vouch for the caloric value of this translucent Mesquite sap, I suspect that it is minor. More important, I feel, is the soothing effect that the sap appears to have on my mouth, throat (a bit of an expectorant effect), and even my soul. I slowly suck upon the sap and I feel immersed in my immediate environment - Mesquite and Man becoming one. So it is with Ethnobotany adventures - they transport me to a world unto itself and one forgotten and neglected by many of my fellow humans.
A quick note on sap types on Mesquite. You may notice that there is a second, much darker (e.g. deep amber to dark orange-red) type of Mesquite sap. Having sampled this type - normally caused by major wounds, such as a human-cut branch - I can say that I have no desire to repeat the feat. As good as the Mesquite Girdler sap is, the darker type is equally as vile. It is the stuff traditionally used to mend broken pottery in the Southwest, not an edible plant part. If you've had a different experience with either type of sap, I would love to hear from you on this topic.
And what, you may ask, becomes of the Mesquite Trees that made this unique treat possible? They continue to grow, attempting to keep one step ahead of the Mesquite Girdler Beetles in their quest to grow bigger and stronger. Two steps forward and one step back for many trees, I suspect. I view this autumnal toll as just one more balance in the infinite checks and balances that define seemingly every nuance and expression of life.
My habit of late is to gather the girdled Mesquite branches and make a pile within which the local birds and other wildlife can take refuge from both inclement weather and predator alike. This MAY allow the then liberated Mesquite trees to be less pruned the following Fall when the young beetles hatch out from the dead branches, though this is perhaps wishful thinking at best. While we (my wife, Claudia, and I) may have somewhat smaller Mesquite trees due to the Beetles, we also have them to thank for this unusual treat!
NOTE: Future entries in blog will contain a wide range of Ethnobotany (= how people employ wild plants for a variety of uses) topics, including: Archery, Basketry, Arts & Crafts, Shelters, Tools, Wild Edible Plants, Wild Medicinal Plants, and much more!
Let me know what you think and....think of taking a class with us at:
RAVENS-WAY WILD JOURNEYS
www.ravensnatureschool.com
We can custom-make an Ethnobotany walk, lecture, or trip for you, your family, or your organization/group!
The following narrative gives but a glimpse of how knowing more about the insects of a particular area can translate into being a better Ethnobotanist and Naturalist.....
After all, how could a small (body ~ 1/2" long; antenna longer than body) insect kill so many branches of a tree noted for the tenacity of its wood? The answer lies in both the anatomy of the Beetle and in the timing of its assault upon the Mesquite branches. In regards to the former, the jaws of the beetle are particularly long and strong, as is the case with most Long-horned Beetle species that I've encountered. They're the type of beetle that give you pause when picking one up, lest those jaws test the integrityof you skin! In the case of the latter, the beetles time their attack so that they are able to girdle (i.e. make a completely encircling cut to) the youngest, most vulnerable branches that grew the previous Spring through current Fall. These youngsters apparently have fewer protections and simply are smaller and easier to girdle than the large ones.
Upon completing this task the death knoll of the particular Mesquite branch in question has been sealed, its life-giving supply of sap having been precipitously and forever cut off. The female Mesquite Girdler Beetle then proceeds to lay a series of eggs in the now sap-poor branch. Flowing sap in a live branch would have likely killed her eggs, hence the need for such a drastic evolutionary strategy to perpetuate the species. The young eventually hatch out of the dead branches to once again perpetuate the cycle of the Mesquite Girdler. This act completed, the adults die and leave the dead branches festooned upon the otherwise live Mesquite tree. Many of these branches easily fall off the tree within a year or two and create a bit of a natural minefield of potent thorns that the intrepid Ethnobotanist must navigate in order to procure the culinary reward afforded by the beetles. Mesquite spines quite easily penetrate all manner of footwear, however impregnable you may deem it!
What is this reward you now ask? Slowly, but surely the girdled wound of the Mesquite exudes a translucent, light amber-colored sap that is designed to seal it against infections and diseases. At first the exudate is merely a thin veneer or small droplet of sap. Eventually, however, some grow to the size of a large grape or so. As you wander through a Mesquite grove in September through December, be it gargantuan trees in a riverside forest or diminutive specimens dotting a grassland, you may begin to notice some of Nature's finest art - amber spheres of light reflecting and refracting the Sun's rays like so many gaudy ornaments. At this moment you have arrived at not only a visual treat, but one that may delight your taste buds as well!
To gather the sap balls, I merely pluck them from their branch stump, noting the level of stickiness that they possess. Early in the gathering season they will, quite naturally, be tackier. and even malleable in your hands. As the Autumn progresses, however, they drier out and take on a more solid form that is even more convenient to gather and store. Be aware, though, that unlike the sap of most conifer trees that I know (e.g. Pines, Cypresses, Junipers, Spruces, & Firs) Mesquite sap is water soluble. Meaning? Namely that they can just as quickly dissolve and disappear after a somewhat unexpected Autumn or early Winter rain storm, as they apparently materialized after the branches were girdled. One storm, then gone! This speaks to one of the Ethnobotanist's and wild forager's main creeds - collect it (when abundant enough) while its there, for tomorrow it may be gone! Still, I always strive to leave some sap behind, not knowing what other sap-eaters may be seeking this treat and wishing to share the feast.
What do I do with these sap nodules? I slowly suck upon them as I wander the incredible wilds of the Sky Islands. They have a rich, yet subtly sweet taste that, unlike candy, never quite gets old. I soon find myself depleting my stores of sap months before they'll be replenished next year. I do store enough to show my students, but am periodically tempted to raid even these meager supplies given my love of the edible oddity.
While I can't vouch for the caloric value of this translucent Mesquite sap, I suspect that it is minor. More important, I feel, is the soothing effect that the sap appears to have on my mouth, throat (a bit of an expectorant effect), and even my soul. I slowly suck upon the sap and I feel immersed in my immediate environment - Mesquite and Man becoming one. So it is with Ethnobotany adventures - they transport me to a world unto itself and one forgotten and neglected by many of my fellow humans.
A quick note on sap types on Mesquite. You may notice that there is a second, much darker (e.g. deep amber to dark orange-red) type of Mesquite sap. Having sampled this type - normally caused by major wounds, such as a human-cut branch - I can say that I have no desire to repeat the feat. As good as the Mesquite Girdler sap is, the darker type is equally as vile. It is the stuff traditionally used to mend broken pottery in the Southwest, not an edible plant part. If you've had a different experience with either type of sap, I would love to hear from you on this topic.
And what, you may ask, becomes of the Mesquite Trees that made this unique treat possible? They continue to grow, attempting to keep one step ahead of the Mesquite Girdler Beetles in their quest to grow bigger and stronger. Two steps forward and one step back for many trees, I suspect. I view this autumnal toll as just one more balance in the infinite checks and balances that define seemingly every nuance and expression of life.
My habit of late is to gather the girdled Mesquite branches and make a pile within which the local birds and other wildlife can take refuge from both inclement weather and predator alike. This MAY allow the then liberated Mesquite trees to be less pruned the following Fall when the young beetles hatch out from the dead branches, though this is perhaps wishful thinking at best. While we (my wife, Claudia, and I) may have somewhat smaller Mesquite trees due to the Beetles, we also have them to thank for this unusual treat!
NOTE: Future entries in blog will contain a wide range of Ethnobotany (= how people employ wild plants for a variety of uses) topics, including: Archery, Basketry, Arts & Crafts, Shelters, Tools, Wild Edible Plants, Wild Medicinal Plants, and much more!
Let me know what you think and....think of taking a class with us at:
RAVENS-WAY WILD JOURNEYS
www.ravensnatureschool.com
We can custom-make an Ethnobotany walk, lecture, or trip for you, your family, or your organization/group!
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