12 THE AU DUB OWNS Le aie 
Save the Prairies 
By CONSTANCE NICE 
WHEN THE PIONEERS came to Illinois a hundred years ago, they gazed with 
awe upon the vast expanses of sun-drenched prairie reaching the horizon. 
Tall blue stem grass grew higher than a man’s head. From early spring to 
late fall the prairie was a scene of ever-changing glory. Illinois was for- 
merly known as the Prairie State. Now its prairies have become so rare, 
that most of its inhabitants have probably never seen one, and would be 
unable to recognize it if they did. Virgin prairie is less striking to the un- 
trained eye than woodland, and more easily destroyed. The intricate society 
of grasses and flowers which over millions of years produced the rich 
prairie soil can be eradicated in an afternoon’s plowing. 
As we leave the Lake Michigan area, virgin country, except for a few 
patches along the railroads and in a few estates, almost vanishes. We are 
fortunate in this region that some fairly large tracts have been preserved 
for possible industrial or real estate use. New houses are starting to spring 
up on some of these open spaces like mushrooms in the night. 
For a sample of the natural flower garden the pioneers found, let us 
visit a virgin prairie in late May. It is covered with masses of pale blue 
quamash — a close relative of the lily, whose bulb sustained Lewis and 
Clark’s expedition — shoals of false Solomon’s seal, brilliant yellow puc- 
coon, and an abundance of pale yellow, fern-leaved betony. Here and there 
are yellow star grass, always a sign of unbroken prairie, like the few 
plants of creamy wild indigo, so large and vigorous they seem like small 
shrubs, and — loveliest of all — shooting stars. 
In early June, prairie phlox dyes the ground pink, while showy vetch- 
ling covers large patches with its vigorous, tendril-tipped leaves and 
clusters of deep pink sweet peas. The fragile blue of spiderwort is scattered 
among the gold of golden ragwort and dwarf dandelion. We listen to the 
plaintive whistle of meadow larks, the mad, joyous flight of bobolinks, 
curious ditties of dickcissels and Henslow’s and grasshopper sparrows, 
and the wild, haunting cries of the upland plover. 
In late summer the prairies are golden with the towering disks of the 
rosinweeds — prairie dock and compass plant — and purple with legions 
of blazing stars. The puzzling white balls of flowers rising above yucca- 
like leaves belong to the rattlesnake master, most uncarrotlike member of 
the carrot family. In September these wild flower gardens are still brilliant 
with goldenrods, asters, prairie gentians, and the russet and bronze of the 
grasses. 
Mr. Floyd Swink, expert field botanist and teacher at the School of 
Pharmacy of the University of Illinois, has listed some of the best prairie 
tracts left in the Chicago area. The handsomest prairie easily available to 
South-siders is a twenty-acre tract south of Southwest Highway (Route 
7), just east of Oaklawn. It is a joy to observe, from the bluets and yellow 
star grass of early spring to the blazing stars and prairie gentians of fall. 
The owners of the new Hometown across the highway plan to make this 
