Ecologists Hunt Rare Sedge Plants in Pa. Swamp

Paul Wiegman picks his way through a primeval-looking swamp in north-central Pennsylvania, searching the eerie expanse of water, pointed tree stumps and knee-high grasses for an inconspicuous little plant only a botanist could love.

His quarry is Carex wiegandii, or Wiegand’s sedge, a grasslike plant thought to exist only in two places in the state and one of about 400 rare or threatened plants that a team of ecologists is trying to locate.

“What we’re trying to do is save all the pieces of the ecological scheme. Plants are the key to food and medicine, and their industrial value is incredible. Enormous amounts of things we use daily have plant products in them,” Wiegman said.

“All of that doesn’t have direct implication to a crummy little sedge in the middle of McKean County. But we don’t know what value it may hold to questions we haven’t even asked. So it’s important we save all plants so that, when we do ask the right questions, the answer is there.”

Large Swamp

Wiegman and two colleagues have driven more than 150 miles northeast of Pittsburgh and hiked two miles through a forest of wild cherry, maple and hemlock to Cathrine Swamp, one of the largest swamps in the state.

A bullfrog’s croak and the squish, squish of water seeping in and out of Wiegman’s once-white tennis shoes are the only sounds interrupting the quiet that blankets the 200-acre bog.

“It’s either this or the amusement park for me,” Wiegman says with a laugh, leaning against a walking stick to free his feet from the mud.

And then, taking in the watery vista, he says, “This is the kind of place that gives you a wilderness feeling. I would be willing to say that there are not a whole lot of people who have walked into this place. Most people don’t get 100 yards away from their cars.”

Wiegman directs the natural areas program for the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy, the oldest and largest regional conservancy in the country, with 13,000 members. For the last five years, the agency and its eastern counterpart, The Nature Conservancy, have been trying to locate the rare or threatened plants.

How Data Is Used

The state uses the information to regulate development, and the conservancies use it to protect areas considered too precious to leave to chance.

When it was formed 54 years ago, long before the state park system, the Western Pennsylvania Conservancy began purchasing large tracts of land, mainly for recreation. Nowadays, the private, nonprofit agency buys property to preserve unique habitats that contain rare or endangered plants, animals and insects.

“What we’re aiming at is maintaining museums again, but on the land, rather than in a building,” Wiegman says. “More people and more agencies . . . are no longer just considering deer and bear but are in the business of protecting the whole landscape.”

Joining Wiegman on a recent rain-soaked morning were Charles Bier, another conservancy ecologist, and Jim Bissell, curator of botany at the Cleveland Museum of Natural History and an expert on sedges.

In the spirit of detectives, the three begin the hunt for a plant in museums and libraries, researching the plant’s history, characteristics and when and where it was last seen. In some cases, the most recent information may be more than 100 years old.

Their research complete, they comb forests and meadows, river banks and mountaintops.

Determined Hunters

Once in the field, nothing stops the hunt--not even a thunderstorm packing 30-m.p.h. winds, as Wiegman explained outside a motel in nearby Kane before the sedge search.

“Once you’re up here, you’re up here,” he shouted over the din of rain pummeling his car, where he had taken refuge while waiting for Bier and Bissell to arrive. “Nothing stops you, not even serious rain.”

On a logging road leading to the swamp, deer dart in and out of the woods after the rain subsides, and large ferns blanket the forest floor, but the three men’s eyes and ears are on more subtle displays of nature.

Bissell points out a mottled-brown wood frog, barely distinguishable from its surroundings, and notes the warble of a hermit thrush.

Bier, who has a passion for dragonflies, whips a butterfly net over his head to catch a particularly colorful specimen.

As the three arrive at the swamp, they scatter. Bier heads directly for the water, while Wiegman and Bissell search the muddy edges. There is little talking, save for an occasional transmission via headphones between Wiegman and Bier.

Significant Find

After about half an hour, Bissell crouches among several decaying tree stumps, gently parts the grasses and ferns, and fingers a grassy-looking plant.

Hidden there is a New England species of sedge that has never before been seen this far west. Although it isn’t the plant the group came for, the find is, nevertheless, significant. Plants that are rare in one part of the country but abundant elsewhere are important ecologically, Wiegman says.

“It’s the frontier of the plant, where it is learning to do new things. That’s the cutting edge, the place where the plant is more plastic. It’s where new species may be naturally evolving,” he says.

Bissell carefully picks one of the plants and dissects its parts like a coroner performing an autopsy, then places it in his specimen bag and notes the location and environment.

“I’m a fanatic when it comes to certain things like these little guys,” he says.

Meanwhile, Bier tells Wiegman through headphones that he may have found Wiegand’s sedge closer to the water. The three confirm the plant’s identity and begin scouring the rest of the swamp to look for more.

‘Every Species Is of Value’

“It’s not a showy wildflower, but it may be just as important as other species of plants,” Bier says, the plant resting in the palm of his hand. “We know there’s a bias toward bald eagles and showy orchids. But if we’re concerned scientifically . . . then every species is of value.

“These species are like books of knowledge that we haven’t even learned how to open up and read yet.”

Back in the office, information about the sedge and its habitat will be recorded in a computer for use by the conservancies and the state and federal governments.

The ecologists also maintain “top secret files” for certain plants. That information is kept on paper, and only certain people have access.

“One of the threats is a collector going out and digging up plants,” Wiegman says. “Wild orchids in this state and cactus in the Southwest are the two big species for the plant trade. It’s just like people who collect rare coins. There are people who collect rare plants, and some will bring high value in the market.”

The goal of the two conservancies is to determine how abundant a particular plant is and to protect the truly rare and endangered plants. Once they determine that a species is threatened, they may try to lease the property where it is found, ask the owner to protect the plant by establishing his own preserve or try to buy the land.

Unusual Habitats

The discovery of a rare or endangered plant on land slated for development also may halt or alter the process, Bier says, because such plants often live in unusual habitats that cannot be duplicated elsewhere.

Federal and state authorities are holding back on granting a permit for the mining of peat at an unidentified wetland in northern Pennsylvania because of an endangered plant found on the property, he says.

And the state Department of Forestry changed its plans to spray for Gypsy moths after reviewing conservancy data on the location of threatened plants and animals that would be affected by the substance.

But conservationists are racing against the clock in their efforts to preserve rare and endangered plants.

“We are running out of time,” Bier says. “I don’t know how many thousands of acres are being strip-mined for coal each year, but there are certainly lots of acres being stripped and lots of wetlands being impacted.”

“But we’re slowing the process of losing both plants and animals,” Wiegman says. “Even if we just protect one, we’re slowing the process.”