Conservation easement monitoring log: Hunt Farm Prairie

I met up with Harriet and Sam, siblings and current caretakers of their family land, and we drove through the pasture toward their prairie remnant. This visit was technically a requirement; the Hunt Family donated a conservation easement on the 75-acre remnant to INHF in 2013, and part of INHF’s commitment as the easement holder is to make an annual visit to the land to make sure the terms of the easement are upheld. Despite the business at hand, there was no sense of obligation for the visit — all three of us were eager for a morning exploring in the summer prairie. We walked the upland first and Harriet tested my knowledge of plant names, as enthusiastic to learn as I was to greet so many species. I jotted down a plant list,  giddy in anticipation of its length.

The porcupine grass was nodding, heavy with seed,  and we couldn’t resist collecting them in a neat stack for use on a nearby planting. I wondered how many people had previously stopped in this spot, holding the needle-like seeds with long awns in their hands. I thought to inquire about the family’s history on the land and learned that Harriet, Sam, and their late brother Carl are the fifth generation of their family to steward this land. They’ve introduced a sixth and seventh generation of the Hunt family to visit and love the prairie, too.

As we marched west toward the wet swath of prairie, I listened to the story of Peter and Katherine, great-great grandparents of Harriet and Sam, who moved from Germany with 6 children to the Iowa Great Lakes region. Their children, and now, their great-great-great-great grandchildren (yes, 4 greats!) have lived on this land or spent summers visiting. My feet suddenly splashed in standing water, and I paused my steps to photograph blue flag iris. Had Peter or his children ever soaked their boots, stopping in awe of this vibrant violet flower? I hope so.

We climbed the glacial ridge (I need to look up “eskers” later!) where the prairie suddenly favors species that like dry, rocky conditions. It was easy to see the property boundaries from this view and assess that the easement terms have been upheld. We pass leadplant and New Jersey tea, and I press for more history. Sam remembers summers at his grandparent’s cabin, and the prairie being mowed for hay. Harriet has fewer childhood memories of the prairie, because it wasn’t common for girls to go on the farm equipment or go hunting in the pasture. By the time she brought her own children to the prairie, however, she realized how special it must be for no one in her family to ever plow it. Sam mentioned that the adjacent pasture was only plowed a single time, “and it must not have gone well because they didn’t do it again.” I laughed as I struggled to trudge back down the ridge and through the wet swath again — it was no stretch to imagine that both the topography and the hydrology would have made it near impossible to plow. 

The prairie is truly a legacy; one Sam rallied the family to protect once he retired and learned about INHF’s conservation easement program. The easement is only part of a greater complex of protected land, near Kettleson Hogsback Wildlife Management Area. The Hunt family and their farm tenants also have a long history of using conservation practices on their nearby pasture and cropland. Taking care of the land was a value passed down through their family, and Sam believes it’s an Iowa legacy, too: “We know there are Iowans who share common beliefs to what we have and want to protect what’s here.”

We walk back to where we entered the prairie remnant, through the wild onion, prairie ragwort, phlox and rue anemone. Past death camas, prairie larkspur and junegrass. The visit fulfills my technical obligation, but after a walk through a remnant like this, it feels more like an honor. Any sense of obligation I’m left with is this: the duty all Iowans share in upholding the integrity and diversity of our lands and waters.