Porcelain-berry Is Bringing Me Down

Porcelain-berry, the kudzu of the North, on the periphery of my natural area

For some reason (perfect temperatures, soil moisture, carbon dioxide concentrations, or a synergistic interaction of all three), the invasive Asian vine porcelain-berry (Ampelopsis brevipedunculata) "exploded" in my preserve this summer.  The perennial vine is ever present, and always the biggest threat in the natural area.  When I first took my job 25 years ago, one of the first tasks I set for myself was to bring the plant under control in the most heavily infested areas, and I was really able to knock it back with several years' intensive mechanical and chemical control efforts.  But, as I said, this year it has re-surged with a vengeance. 

Porcelain-berry fruits in varying stages of ripeness

Porcelain-berry was introduced to the united States from eastern Asia, probably as a garden ornamental.  It's fruits are attractive for about two weeks in the fall, but the rest of the year the plant just looks like a sprawling grapevine - to which it is very closely related.

Once the plant escaped the bounds of gardens (undoubtedly aided by birds that eat its fruit and then defecate the seeds elsewhere), it found a perfect home in the Mid-Atlantic.  It grows up into the canopy, spreads out to capture sunlight, and blankets the trees supporting it, eventually shading the trees to death or ripping off their limbs when the weight of the vines becomes too much for the tree to bear, especially when covered in snow and ice in the winter.

Porcelain-berry flowers attracting a honeybee

Porcelain-berry is served by generalized pollinators, so it is not dependent on a specialized bee, wasp or bat to spread its pollen.  And, while it's an introduced species, our native North American songbirds (and white-tailed deer) consume it readily, helping to spread the plant across the landscape, probably because it is so closely related to the grapes that are already familiar to our native species.

The only insects I have ever observed damaging porcelain-berry leaves are invasive, non-native Japanese beetles, but they never become numerous enough to inflict real harm to the plant.  I suspect that even if the plant has a specific disease or insect pest that keeps it in check in its homeland, such a disease or insect could never be imported into the United States as a biocontrol agent because it likely would also attack commercial grapes.

A porcelain-berry rhizome

Porcelain-berry develops an extensive, thick underground stem or rhizome.  The rhizome grows through the soil and sends up shoots ever few feet or so.  An infestation of porcelain-berry may actually consist of only a few plants all growing from the same underground stems.  Cutting off a few of the above-ground vines hardly fazes the plant, which has plenty of resources stored underground.  The only feasible method of control is to poison the plant with a broad-leaf herbicide applied either to the foliage or directly onto the rhizome after an above-ground stem is severed.

One of my board members asked me to do a photographic inventory of land parcels on the periphery of the preserve that we might be able to acquire to add to the natural area.  I completed the inventory and prepared a PowerPoint program that I presented at the last board meeting.  In my remarks prefacing the presentation, I alerted the board members to note that every single one of the 10 parcels I had photographed that was not maintained as a meadow was completely overwhelmed by porcelain-berry.  The Vandals are at the gates, and the endgame doesn't look good. 

Porcelain-berry is really bringing me down; it's the last straw.  I have psychically and physically invested nearly half my life in the stewardship of my natural area preserve and, if anything, it is in worse condition now than when I started working.  Storm-water flooding is worse, streambank erosion is worse, white-tailed deer damage is stable but is not declining, the invasive non-native emerald ash borer is on our doorstep and will kill perhaps a third the trees in the preserve, and porcelain-berry (and other invasive vines) are, if anything, even more prolific than they were a quarter-century ago.  If I haven't already crossed the threshold, I'm close to the point of despairing about my professional career.

Depair in a Glass Coffin

Brown Marmorated Stink Bug

For the last few winters, homeowners all over southeastern Pennsylvania have endured "infestations" of Brown Marmorated Stink Bugs (Halyomorpha halys), a non-native species believed to have been introduced into the eastern United States in packing crates from China.  They were first collected near Allentown, Pennsylvania in September 1998.  (Incidentally, don't you love the name "marmorated," which means "marbled.")

My house has a bumper crop this year, as always.  The bugs seek refuge from winter by squeezing into any available crevice in the autumn.  Then, in mid-winter for some reason, those that chose to escape the cold in buildings emerge into the interior of the structures, where they can be seen flying and crawling everywhere.  Fastidious homemakers freak out, but I have an altogether different reaction.

These bugs, admittedly, are non-native and they are plant pests.  When I go to harvest the last few tomatoes in my garden in October and I find that each one has been damaged by the proboscis of a stink bug, I curse the bugs and am inclined to sympathize with those homeowners who won't tolerate the natural world crossing the threshold of their abode.

However, I can't really bring myself to loathe them and, in winter, I actually sympathize with them.  Last week, in the midst of an ice storm, I came across one of the bugs clinging to the window pane above my kitchen sink.  Surely, in this bug's mind, there was an invisible force field inexplicably preventing it from fulfilling its destiny in the light.  Undoubtedly it was starving and it probably felt the mating imperative, but it just couldn't see its way clear or even to simply survive, since the bugs don't last long once they emerge into the warm, dry, foodless house.

Did it know that it only had a few hours left?  Did it experience yearning?  Was its mesenteron growling for lack of food?

If it had been any season other than winter, I would have captured the bug (as I do all arthropods that show up in the house) and released it outside.  But this bug had only two options: starve to death in the house or freeze to death outside.  Life's neither pretty nor fair - we all know this - but the complete lack of choice for this doomed insect seemed particularly cruel.

Humans Are Despicable: Further Confirmation (Note: Disturbing image at end of post)

Beaver (Castor canadensis)
Image from Illinois Dept. of Fish and Game website

The natural area that I haunt is within two miles of the city line of a major Mid-Atlantic city. So, it's embedded in the sprawling suburbs and gets a lot of use. Nevertheless, it manages to retain many of its natural amenities.

Two years ago, I was walking along the creek that flows through the preserve downstream of the designated natural area. The creek flows out of the natural area and into a privately-owned marshy area that is crisscrossed with roads and railroad tracks. Because the area is marshy, and because the roads and railroads are above the level of the creek and the marsh, it is basically an extension of the designated natural area. During that walk, I came across a beaver lodge hidden at the edge of the marsh. I was ecstatic--beavers had made their way back to the watershed all by themselves--probably by migrating from an adjacent watershed where I know they are present.

Earlier this year, I began to hear reports of beavers in the tributaries of the creek above and below the natural area. Then, in the summer, a beaver appeared in a small pond within the natural area. I would see it every July evening that I went down to the pond. Come August, just as mysteriously as it appeared, it disappeared. I guess the pond wasn't to its liking.

Yesterday afternoon (October 1), a friend who roams the natural area even more frequently than I called me to report that he found a beaver washed up against a tree trunk in the creek with an arrow through it. It appeared to have been shot with a crossbow. I think I know who did this (he's notorious), and he did it just for target practice or maliciousness, since his property is not near the creek and his trees were not being damaged by gnawing.

There's really no hope for humanity.