Back to the Bottomland

Yesterday, my BIOL 345-Limnology class made a trip to the South Skunk River north of Pella. We viewed the floodplain and talked about how humans respond to river dynamics, saw an oxbow lake, and took measurements of the river channel dimensions and current (velocity of the water) to later calculate disharge.

But the most fun was revisiting a soil horizon marker placed by the BIOL 345 class in 2017. It was surprisingly easy to relocate—of course, that was my intention, but it is easy for me to get lost in the woods! But there it was, in all its sparkly glory. We were naturally excited.

We measured a layer of soil 43.65 mm (1.72 inches) thick above our “horizon” (layer of glitter). Some of that deposition may be from natural processes of soil-building in a forest, but published rates of soil-building are much, much less (probably a fraction of a mm/yr in the temperate zone). So presumably much of the materials above the glitter were laid down by deposits carried in the river—muddy, silty floodwater sat above the glitter and as the water receded, left the materials behind.

We adjusted the caliper after this photo was taken—we settled on 43.65mm

It’s exciting, and also alarming. Iowans brag about having some the best soil in the world, and that might be true…but it is literally washing away, eroding off our fields and carried downstream. Hopefully we’ll hear the call, and better care for our precious topsoil.

Mission: Crayfish

Regular readers of this blog know that my research usually involves plants and/or water: what plant species grow where, and how they grow, and about the relationship between plants and the hydrology of wetlands. Although that work will likely continue, I’ve been pulled in another direction of late…as if claws have grabbed me, and won’t let go.

It’s crayfish.

It began in my ecology classes: catching crayfish as a matter of course, trying to sample populations and differentiate habitats and so forth. Just another species to find and put on the data form.

But these animals are lively, and a little scary, and sometimes quite colorful. In other words, they are charismatic. I was baffled by their seemingly random appearance—many many sites appear to have none, but at some sites you can find them in droves. That makes them ecologically interesting.

So I tried to read up on our crayfish, especially their biogeography and conservation…I recommend a recent publication from the Illinois Natural History Survey, Field Guide to Crayfishes of the Midwest by Taylor, Schuster and Wylie. The book has terrific photos and range maps, an identification key, and a solid introduction to the biology of these animals.

Interestingly, the book lists seven publications that review the crayfish of the eight States included in the region. Guess which State is missing….? Yup: Iowa. In fact, that last review of Iowa crayfish is from…1981. “But Paul,” you say. “Aren’t we overdue for a crayfish survey in Iowa? Shouldn’t ‘Somebody’ do one?”

I’m not sure yet where I’m going with this, something not all that unusual in science! I’m reading publications and corresponding with other researchers. I do have a State collecting permit and a little experience now. Hopefully my 99wetlands travels will also give me some ideas on how to do this work??

My initial research goals are basic: determine which species are found in Iowa today, and how to study them effectively. Later, I may be able to estimate population size and structure, or particulars of their lifecycle, or how they use habitats.

Crayish sampling using wire-mesh “torpedo” trap, similar to the trap used to catch minnows

Eventually, I may understand these animals well enough to let them tell me about the condition of our wetlands, ponds, streams and lakes. I imagine that their unique biology makes them a useful indicator of conditins and functions of our aquatic and semiaquatic systems. After all, they are really large aquatic Arthropods, are voracious omnivores while themselves being important prey items, and although generally aquatic are in some cases terrestrial (primarily subterranean, living in burrows).

They are also really tricky to study—hard to catch, only reliably identified as males and at certain portions of life cycle, and mainly nocturnal. So, dear Reader, I make no promises…but I promise to eventually share what I learn.

Any ideas or suggestions? Leave a comment! Thanks for reading.

Went to the swamp; found myself

Last week, I described what I found out on the land during my tour of Iowa’s 99 counties. That entry, and this whole blog, is about wetlands. But with your indulgence, I’d like to engage in a bit of self-reflection. I’ve learned about more than just wetlands, as it turns out. While slogging about these past three years, I’ve come to understand three truths: the value of being myself, of being in community, and of being connected to place.

Student artwork, inspired by a lesson on “modular growth” of cattails

To be myself

We scientists (at least, those of my generation) were trained to conduct science in a dispassionate, disciplined way. Our goal is to ask questions and seek answers mechanically, avoiding bias as much as possible. Even the dry, stilted writing we employ when describing our work (“data were collected…” “…these results may reasonably be interpreted to suggest…”) encourage us to pretend to be science-robots.

Although this approach has noble intentions, it is still flawed in two important ways. First, it suggests we might somehow avoid bias (we can’t), thus avoiding the difficult and messy work of actually confronting our bias. Second, it places an artificial barrier between scientists and others (young would-be scientists, or the general public). Why are we are then surprised that science is seen as elitist and out-of-touch?

This 99wetlands project was an acknowledgment that today, society needs scientists to remember to be human beings, and to make a personal connection with non-scientists. We need to share our passion as well as our knowledge, and to engage in important conversations. Time spent driving to the slough or writing a blog entry was also time spent asking what’s really important to me, and why, and how to convey that to my readers. I hope I’ve done that in this blog.

Tour of Bee Branch project, Dubuque

Living in community

I don’t own a wetland. Every site I profiled belongs to a private landowner, or is public land. It was important that this 99wetlands story include stories about the people who own, love, work in, and enjoy wetlands. I was delighted that in sharing their ecosystems, they shared their stories: what makes this place special, what should my readers know about it, how do you care for this place, what are we learning through this work? Getting to know the wetland meant telling the stories of my fellow wetlanders, and I loved it!

Including my students in my forays was both natural and a delight. These young people bring such energy and enthusiasm. Their questions and observations make me think about my work in new ways. Teaching brings great meaning to my life, and introducing young people to the beauty and the business of the ecosystem is truly a privilege.

And where would a writer be without a reader?? Almost 10,000 viewers from 60 different countries…that’s worth my effort! The blog format encourages readers to post comments and questions, and that’s the best part. I enjoy hearing additional points of view, examples from others’ experience, and the occasional gentle correction when I make a mistake. Much like my media interviews, I hear a comment from time-to-time out in The Real World, about how someone learned something new, or that I shared something that brought a little joy to their day. It means so much to me.

Landowners invest much thought into wetland construction and management

Connected to a place

I’ve lived in Iowa for over 20 years now; Iowa feels like home. What better way to get the “sense of place” every environmental scientist needs, than to explore? So now, I have a better sense of Iowa geography—river to river, woods to prairies, farms and cities. I know more Iowa history, even pre-history of ancient peoples. I’ve met a few more Iowans—from ranchers to scientists to photographers. My wanderings and adventures make me love the place even more!

This quest was part of the inspiration for a class I’ll be teaching in a few weeks called, “Iowa: A Sense Of Place.” It’s one of those first-year college seminars where we introduce students to the academic life, to many ways of learning and knowing. You better believe I plan to have a good time with the class! Like this blog, I want to tell lots of different kinds of stories. Like this blog, I want it to be interactive. Like this blog, I hope it is life-changing.

This rustic sign ifts right in, don’t be ofFENded

Some Final Thoughts…

I finish the 99 wetlands in a tumultuous time, indeed. As I write this, our country grapples with racial injustice in a most public way, perhaps more directly than at any time since the 1960s. It suffers from an economic depression not seen since the 1930s. We’re living through the worst pandemic in a century.

I haven’t exactly enjoyed these past six months, to be honest.

One of the things that has proven a comfort at this time, is the joy I feel when I’m in nature. I encourage you, if you can, to go find a pretty spot and just be still. You can find all sorts of studies about the mental-health benefits of spending time alone, contemplating the natural world. You can experience the aesthetic of nature-inspired art. You can reflect on the spiritual writings of ancient mystics and prophets who communed with Nature. Or…you can just go, and have that time away from the stifling oppression of the stresses and demands of everyday life.

Maybe you’ll choose to go to a wetland in Iowa. Maybe you’ll see me there.

I plan to keep exploring the wetlands, but informally and intermittently. I’ll still blog from time-to-time. Maybe I’ll make some videos. I’m told I should write a book, and maybe I will. I’ll keep you updated on whatever crazy shenanigans come next.

Until then…thanks again, and stay squishy!

End of the Trail…at least, the 99 quest is completed…I hope the fun continues!!

What The Wetlands Say

I’ve now traveled throughout all of Iowa, meeting amazing people and seeing remarkable wetland ecosystems. Across 124 blog posts, I’ve tried to share my excitement with readers about the sights, sounds…and yes, smells…I’ve experienced.

“But Paul,” you say. “Just what is The Big Picture of Iowa’s wetlands…?”

Well, certainly no one can deny that Iowa has more diversity than is immediately obvious. Despite the loss of more than 90% of the State’s wetlands, I still found natural fens, potholes, sloughs, bottomland forests, brushy swamps, wet meadows, and marshes. I observed resident and migratory amphibians, reptiles, birds, mammals and insects. Gorgeous wildflowers, intricate mollusk shells, gnarled driftwood, and the water itself, all have unique beauty.

My interest in history appears in stories about Native American burial mounds, traditional uses of plants, a profile of “Ding” Darling and the modern American wetland conservation movement, “ghost towns” and changing land use, and Superfund and other serious contamination…and how we’ve addressed our legacy. The story I didn’t tell, and the sites I couldn’t show, were the countless missing wetlands. The landscape still has scars and remnants of drained or filled wetlands, often quite obvious in Spring when fields are still wet, or at high flow events in streams and rivers which attempt to reclaim old oxbows or floodplains where the water naturally moved from time to time.

Sometimes a blog entry was less about the site itself, and more about what we do at wetlands—the business of wetland science and management. It’s fascinating to “read” signs of hydrology (water movement or characteristics) when a site is in fact very dry. Identifying plants and animals is a useful tool, and Iowa has knowledgeable and generous naturalists—mostly unpaid, yet quite expert—who help each other to learn the species and about their biology. We all use maps, aerial photographs (including fancy Infrared or decades-old historic shots), soil samples and marker horizons (glitter, anyone??), chemical analyses, and a well-developed series of procedures to accurately identify, delineate and classify wetlands.

Redheads are handsome, yes…? 😉

I haven’t talked much about how to care for our wetlands, and I’d love to do more with that in the future. Science and my personal observations all confirm that wetlands are never isolated, but are connected to other elements of the landscape. Healthy ecosystems are dynamic and adaptive, always-changing. Although we attempt to isolate or standardize the condition of a wetland, that’s always a bad idea, even if well-intentioned.

This blog is proof that, deep down, I’m a teacher…and in particular a teacher who loves to share stories. Most of my favorite memories are of wetland visits spent with my students. We get wet and muddy. We try to observe the organisms close-up (but hopefully, gently and respectfully). We learn about the conditions of water and air and soil that together, over time and through the work of life itself, make these unique and beautiful places.

For some additional reflection on this quest, I encourage you to listen to an interview I gave with the news director at our local radio stations, KNIA-KRLS. You’ll find answers to questions like why wetlands are important, which of the 99 was my favorite site, recurring themes through the project, and what this all means for my other professional activity.

What was your favorite memory? What would you still like to learn?

Number 99 at last!!

HOME AT LAST, to the final visit in my tour of Iowa’s 99 counties: my home for 20-some years, Marion County! In fact, this wetland is right on the campus of my home institution, Central College, where I’ve worked since moving to Iowa.

It seemed fitting to profile a site in my own backyard, as a sort of homecoming. Better still, I can turn over the blog to my students for this one! They’ve worked hard at the site, an old farm pond on the west end of campus, and I will let them tell the story. Please visit the web page they created as part of a group project for my colleague’s class (link below). But first, let me add a little background for context…

The environs near the wetland/pond, part of the athletic complex. Service Day started with a rare October snow…melted off as the day warmed.

This pond has been used for years, by myself and other profs, for aquatic ecology activities. When we did bathymetry in Limnology class years ago, we found the bottom to be fairly uniform, with firm footing and water depth of about 60-70 cm throughout. Obviously siltation has occurred since then, and it is shallower and more “squishy.” However, the notched outflow on the berm (earthen dam) has eroded a bit, likely to decrease the maximum water depth as well.

As far as I know, runoff from surrounding grassy fields—combination golf practice area and cross-country course—provides the sole water input aside from direct precipitation falling on the surface. During dry weather, no water flows out; however I haven’t seen the pond actually dry.

The pond is visible in the right half of this photo. It is almost completely covered by the tiny duckweed plants. Extensive trees and brush surrounded the pond before the crew got to work

The pond has minimal emergent macrophytes (cattail, bulrush) around the edge. Filamentous algal blooms in early Spring are followed by a thick covering of Duckweed, so an impetus for the project was my observations that the duckweed diminished both the habitat quality and our ability to use the pond. I suspected that clearing the dense plant growth from the slopes around the pond might help reduce the duckweed, and facilitate access for visitors.

Link to the student web page:

https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/6cd2c0ff4997425d8063650c97589e34

Pretty great, isn’t it? They did an outstanding job with both organizing a Service Day project (and follow-up extra work day), and then all the additional analyses. The web page tells the story, although there’s yet another product of their labors (I’ll share THAT, next week).

This is the last of the 99 wetlands for my epic trek across Iowa…but this is certainly not the end of the story. This campus wetland will allow this coming semester’s classes, and many well into the future, to learn more about wetlands and their inhabitants and functioning. I’m looking forward to that. But beyond this, I believe we need to step back and review the journey, and consider what it all means. Come back next week for my musings on 99wetlands, and beyond. Thanks for visiting!!

TEAMWORK. I really do appreciate the student’s hard work and the willingness of my colleague to “loan” me her Environmental Studies class…

In Good Hands…

Last year, I visited The Land of the Swamp White Oak Preserve, in Muscatine County. This 4,000-acre (1600-hectare) facility is truly outstanding, and open to the public. I recommend a visit! Let me tell you why this place is so special, and show a few photos and stories. We start with some Oak…but note that it blends with Willow, sedges, and glorious, sticky  mud.

As I’ve explained in past posts, the concept of “public land” varies widely. Who owns a property, who may visit, various uses and maintenance of the land can all differ. My observations suggest that the Nature Conservancy is a most pragmatic organization, focused on preserving the ecological integrity of the land forever. That goal still allows for a variety of ownership, partnership, care, and use. For example, I’ve stayed on a facility that had a beautiful cabin for groups (like my Ecology class) and yet is also was a working ranch. Other sites may allow only very restricted use. Land may be privately owned, and even worked, with the conservation goals nevertheless achieved through partnerships and various legal arrangements.

This particular property has a focus on wetlands and savanna habitats, and the amphibians, reptiles, and other animals found there. Dale and his crew from the local office showed me around, answering questions and explaining their work. It’s impressive! Let’s start with a look at some of those “herps,” the amphibians and reptiles.

Perhaps the variety and abundance of reptiles and amphibians tell us more about the quality and health of the wetland ecosystem, than any other indicator. These animals are exquisitely sensitive to disruptions of water dynamics and chemistry, weather patterns, alteration of structures in the habitat, etc. I’m delighted to report the presence of many such species, a few of which I got to see close-up! Check out the Newt with its bright yellow belly, or the fancy scutes (think treads on an armored vehicle) on a snake.

Care for some Arthopods? I’ve got some photos from around the site. Land, water, or…both? Check out the Mantis, some Odonates (Dragonfly/Damselfly nymph). Dale had a dip net, and we sampled slough, fen, and pond waters.

These habitats (and nearby uplands) are ideal for Crustaceans, and I love this duel of the great pincers. (Hey…what do YOU call these guys? Leave a comment with your preferred common name.)

This place is fun, even if you never see that wildlife. Just a nice walk along a stream, a bounce on the quaking peat, beating through a “reedswamp,” or rolling logs in a floodplain Bottomland Forest. This is time well-spent, and an amazing beauty to linger and appreciate.

I’m gladdened that The Nature Conservancy will protect this unique, ecologically-important site. Even more, I was delighted to interact with such dedicated, energetic young conservationists. With friends like these, our wetlands are in good hands.

 

 

Wetland lessons and beauty

Hello again, fellow enthusiasts! Sorry to keep you waiting (my last blog entry was in January…and today is the start of July!!) but all is well, and I intend to finish this journey through Iowa’s 99 counties very soon. Today we visit the Calkins Nature Area in Hardin County. [Actually, these photos are from my visit to the site almost a year ago: August 2019.]

The County Conservation Board has a well-designed nature center just outside the town of Iowa Falls, complete with informative displays and helpful staff. Regular readers of this blog know my fondness for public outreach and education. I especially enjoy effective interpretation, in other words telling a story—putting the observations you make at the site today, in a context of the geology and history of that place.

Outside is a delightful butterfly experience, then the trailhead. As expected, we’re heading downhill to where the water will sit.

Sitting near the river, in a wooded bottomland setting, is a wetland pond with a control structure to impound the water. Really, the walk to the wetland, and the trail leading further along the stream, is just as lovely as the wetland itself. Flowers near water’s edge and along the path, dragonflies swooping around me, and sections of till and rolling hillside made it a scenic walk.

Lately, I’ve had reason to think more about how to tell the story of the wetlands of Iowa…actually, how to tell the story of Iowa! More about those musings later. For now, I welcome you back to my trek, and ask you to join me as I visit a couple more counties in coming weeks, and then step back and ask what we’ve learned. Please join me, add your thoughts and questions, and stay well, friends.

The Waters Linger…

De Soto National Wildlife Refuge sits in an oxbow of the Missouri River, along Iowa’s western border. I visited in late October of last year, so I could X-off Harrison County on the 99wetlands map. It was a gorgeous day, sunny and warm. The migrating waterfowl were present in force, and I was enjoying myself, being right there and living in the moment.

Or, I was trying to. But memories of the previous spring’s flooding were ever-present. Trails closed, roads and culverts washed out, high water under the Visitor’s Center building. Perhaps the Redheads, Coots, and Ibis all benefited from the water sitting here and there on soggy fields. But I had heard all the trouble it caused to the Refuge personnel. Emergency conditions, and all-hands working to keep things safe and secure. Up and down western Iowa, areas along the river were inundated, and the effects will be felt for years to come.

But let’s be thankful for the good news. De Soto is a beautiful facility in the perfect spot: a major flyway for birds such as the iconic Blue Goose, symbol of the entire Refuge System. When I visited, they had (finally!) reopened most areas of the Refuge, including the terrific Visitor’s Center, complete with attractive and informative displays, helpful staff, and—as I was excited to discover—an excellent bookshop!! You should come visit.

The staff here, and all those living along the river, are inexorably tied to a mighty force of nature. It affords opportunities for recreation and trade. The waters are always changing as they flow; one day a lovely vista, the next a dangerous threat. But…we really shouldn’t just shrug our shoulders at the inevitability of flood risk. As regular readers of this blog have discovered, we humans have changed the very nature…of Nature. We have altered the drainage of Iowa’s surface, delivering more water, more quickly to streams—thereby increasing flood risk along this river. We are also changing our climate by dumping huge quantities of carbon into the atmosphere. Climate change is happening, and it includes alterations to the water cycle. Expect more flooding here at De Soto, and elsewhere across Iowa…and beyond.

In less than three weeks, I’ll head to my local caucus. We Iowans are the first Americans to express our opinion about those running for President. You can count on this: I’ll chat about climate change with my friends and neighbors who share my party affiliation, if an opportunity presents itself. I will urge those around me to step up to the challenge of climate, and call on our leaders to do the same. I hope that you’ll have that conversation in your caucus, or with a parishoner over coffee after church, with a friend at the pub, or through social media. Please…we need to talk about the future, about the climate, about our wetlands…and what we leave as a legacy. Let’s make sure our care and dedication are what lingers after us.

Fractals in the Wetland

It’s surprising what my wandering mind will stumble upon during my wetland wanderings. On a recent walkabout at Littlefield Recreation Area in Audubon County, I was thinking about fractals, of all things! It actually made sense in context, and may be helpful to bear in mind when thinking about habitats and the living things therein.

Fractals are a concept from mathematics, applicable to art and ecology and many other topics. The idea is that a geometric pattern repeats itself across scales: a certain shape is contained within a larger version of that same shape, and also has within it smaller versions of that shape, and so on. They make beautiful and interesting designs for illustrations, but I wonder if they might also apply in an ecological sense for wetlands?

If any ecosystem could be a fractal, wetlands are likely to do it. An aerial view of Littlefield shows a variety of watery habitats, from the 70-acre (28 hectare) lake, to a pond, ditches or swales, wetlands, streams, and various connections between all of them. I’m unfamiliar with this site, but such places sometimes have high water spreading across the land and submerging it all, or dry conditions where low wet spots are isolated or even dry up entirely. The variable hydrology of wetlands makes them larger, smaller, connected, disconnected…perhaps a fractal pattern across the land, and over time?

The idea of “winking patches” in landscape ecology, where habitats appear and vanish, would have profound implications for organisms. As one example, think about frogs and toads. The concern about “amphibian decline” has a lot of attention as populations, and whole species, are in danger of being lost forever. But having habitats where predators or diseases can’t establish, because of their ephemeral nature, can be really important. The long-term stability of an amphibian is accomplished through short-term, unpredictable or temporary habitats.

The ponds and wetlands and lake may connect by surface water during wet times, and groundwater at other times. But algae and bacteria and seeds will blow around the site at other times, too. Animals will hop and crawl and slither and fly between the various habitats. And it’s all part of a larger network of inter connected ecosystems, too. Streams flow onto this property, are dammed to form ponds or lakes, and then release to contribute to streams and rivers running downslope from here. A map of Audubon, like many Iowa counties, has wiggling blue lines joining together here and there, giving an overall impression of a tree: the aptly-named “dendritic drainage” (from the Greek word for tree, Dendros).

So although the old adage may be true that “we all live downstream,” that’s only part of the story here. We all live in a fractal landscape, perhaps. Thinking about the little habitats, and the larger landscapes to which they contribute, and the connections between these fractal elements, may help us both better appreciate and care for our wetlands.

Perhaps that would be a worthy resolution for us. (Happy New Year!!)

Dragonflies Common and Rare

Is it just me, or are there more dragonflies around lately??

Quite possibly, this is merely a sign that I’m becoming more aware, and fascinated, by these amazing insects. I owe that awareness to readers of this blog, and to several friends and colleagues who share their knowledge passion with me. I’m convinced that after the fanatical birders and the ardent butterfly enthusiasts, the dragonfly lovers are the next most dedicated animal observers. (Check out IowaOdes or Odonata Central webpages, for example).

One such observer, and successful researcher of the Odonata (Dragonflies and Damselflies) is my colleague at Iowa Lakeside Laboratory field station, Bob Cruden. He’s been associated with Lakeside for decades, probably working there longer than anyone else. I love visiting with him every summer and learning about…just about everything, really. He’s a trained botanist, published expert on insects, and a dedicated academic and conservationist. Recently, he took time to look at photos of dragonflies I spotted at Nelson Park in Crawford County. He kindly identified* two species for me, and remarked that I had encountered one of the most common species in Iowa, and one of the most rare. I believe I also saw a third (related) species.

Calopteryx maculata, the Black Jewelwing, was abundant and active. The striking, shining blue body and black wings would make a hot-rodder envious of such a body color. The wings flashed at me as the insects surrounded me.

Calopteryx aequabilis, the River Jewelwing, certainly is photogenic: Bugguide.net has about a million images for your enjoyment. Sorry, I don’t have a great photo of this one.

According to the Iowa Odonata Survey, Argia tibialis, the Blue-Tipped Dancer, is known from 61/99 Iowa counties…although Crawford is not among those listed with a record. Have a look at my photos, including several joined together for a group shot!

At Nelson Park, I was delighted to find a streamside wetland just upslope of the small constructed lake (reservior). The habitat was a mix of stream channel with various depths, widths, and substrate (sand, gravel, silt) with a mix of herbaceous vegetation and downed woody debris (logs and snags) in the adjacent bottomland floodplain. In a short walk, one can visit dense wooded slope, floodplain wetland with a stream snaking through, the lake, and a mix of physical structure and organisms throughout. Such variety (habitat heterogeneity) is ecologically valuable. Better still, you can enjoy the beauty and learn a little something—there’s an app for that! Ah, the wonders of technology: we live in an age of miracles.

I was content to just enjoy the dragonflies zooming around me in great numbers. Hovering, diving, racing past and shining in the sun (many are iridescent and brightly-colored). Their beauty and fascinating, lively behavior might explain their great popularity. My inner scientist began to needle me, however. I began to wonder about what these insects need in their habitat. Specifically, I was revisiting the questions I’ve asked lately about the consequences of plant “architecture” on other organisms. Would different sorts Cattails, for example, present different cover in flight or for nymphs swimming in the water? Could eggs be laid as well, or mature nymphs emerge from the water to molt as readily, on different emergent plants? Would water shading or temperature or wave action or litter accumulation affect these animals (or others)? So many questions!

In any case, wander the trail and cross the bridge at this wetland, or a wetland near you, and enjoy our lovely Odonata. Perhaps I’ll see you out in one of Iowa’s amazing wetlands!

*Note: I am not a professional photographer, and Bob had to work with my vague descriptions, too. Any mis-ID is on me, surely.