The Pond in the Dell

by Linda S. Fink

[Originally published in the Sweet Briar College Alumnae Magazine in October 1994; slightly edited here]

     Planning to survey the aquatic life in the small pond behind Guion, I equipped a group of students with dip nets and buckets. As we entered the deep shade of the trees ringing the banks, we were grabbed by thorns and our ears were filled with the whine of mosquitoes. Poison ivy hung from trees and covered the ground, daring us to put a careless hand anywhere. Although the pond was home to tadpoles and crayfish, the water was so turbid that only the faintest silhouettes could be detected in the shallows. A student stepped off the bank and her boot was sucked into thick, orange, bottomless ooze. Defeated by the muck and poison ivy, we never made our census.

     The pond sits on the edge of the Boone-Prior Nature Sanctuary. When I joined the biology department at Sweet Briar in 1990, I inherited the title of director of the nature sanctuaries from my predecessor, Buck Edwards. In this capacity I sit on the College's land use committee, and participate in decisions concerning nine sanctuaries which preserve more than ten percent of Sweet Briar land from logging and construction. For projects related to the sanctuaries I have access to two endowed funds, the Carry Nature Sanctuary and the Natural Areas and Ecological Studies Funds. In the spring of 1993 I asked the Treasurer of the College about using this money to restore the pond. I proposed dredging it, clearing most of the low vegetation and then replanting, and finally establishing a wildflower meadow on the sunny periphery. He was enthusiastic, and arranged for me to work with Mina Wood [former landscaping consultant for the College]. Using most of the income from the funds for 1993 through 1995, we started creating this garden at the bottom of the west dell.

     A friend asked in puzzlement, "In a nature sanctuary shouldn't we let nature take its course without human interference? Whatever happens, after all, is natural."

     Humans have been altering the woods and water of the Boone-Prior Sanctuary for longer than the College has existed. The pond itself is man-made, created by damming a spring-fed creek and collecting the runoff from the west dell and Guion's downspouts. The sanctuary is an open system, and is not immune to stresses coming from outside its boundaries. The runoff is enriched with lawn fertilizer. Until a year ago the dell, like the rest of our lawns, was treated with herbicides. Construction of Guion's Upchurch Wing sent loads of dirt downhill.

     A partial catalog of the plants growing around the pond in the spring of 1993 also showed man's influence. A handful of jack-in-the-pulpits, mayapples, and foamflowers--remnants of the native flora--were hidden along the creek below the dam. At some time, however, the pond edge had been planted ornamentally. Legions of daylilies and daffodils marched down the steep south bank, and the east edge was flanked with Hosta. Overwhelming all of these were plants characteristic of highly disturbed habitats. Poison ivy vines had clambered up the tulip poplars unchallenged for so long that their stems were as thick as my wrist. Old rhododendrons were bending under other vines, including oriental bittersweet and Japanese honeysuckle. The drier understory was an uninterrupted bed of periwinkle, while dandelions and chickweed flourished in the sun.

     The site was supporting only what survived when benign neglect was combined with chemical lawn treatment and centuries of deliberate and accidental introductions of plants from Europe and Asia. In fact, if anyone had questioned why the pond was included within the sanctuary, I could not have justified its status in terms of its value to wildlife, representation of native flora, or educational or aesthetic merit. With active stewardship, however, I felt that the habitat could be reclaimed.

     For what uses should the area be managed? I'd like it to become a haven for wildlife, an outdoor teaching lab, and a quiet, private spot for dreaming. I'd like it to be a place where one student can conduct research on seed dispersal by ants, and another student will find a poem.

     Only native plant species will be added, and most of the alien species, including the ornamentals, will be removed. Why do I want to remove the hostas, and the hardy evergreen periwinkle, just because they evolved in Asia or Europe rather than the eastern United States? Because Virginia's rich native flora is disappearing, and deserves protection in a sanctuary as much as its fauna does. In Field Natural History, students will become familiar with a wealth of species which are scarce or absent elsewhere on campus.

     For wildlife our garden should provide food, water, and shelter year round. Not just nut trees for rodents and berries and nesting sites for songbirds, but crannies for toads, sunny perches near the water for damselflies, foodplants for caterpillars, and nectar sources for adult butterflies and moths.

     How do we turn this vision into a garden? I am an entomologist rather than a botanist, and I know more about raising caterpillars than raising their foodplants. Mina Wood, fortunately, had the expertise I lack. Over several meetings with Mabel and Buck Edwards, we developed a plant wish list. Mina spent the fall and winter of 1993 drawing up a preliminary design, and this spring she arranged for the understory to be cleared, and supervised the initial plantings. Meanwhile, the Landscape Committee agreed to suspend herbiciding of the west dell, and the head of Buildings and Grounds supervised the pond dredging. A high school senior interested in horticulture was hired for the summer to water the new plantings and battle the weeds. (Hostas and daylilies don't give up quietly.)

     It took years of neglect to grow carpets of periwinkle and tresses of poison ivy. It will take years of care to encourage the ferns, wildflowers, and salamanders to take up residence. As writer Sara Stein noted about her own garden restoration,

I realize that what we are involved with here is not so much a landscaping project, to be planted and done with, as a sort of friendship with the land.*

     Over time, unsuccessful plants will be replaced, while thriving clones will be divided and transplanted. After we gain experience, we will introduce rarer plant species. Dappled sunlight over the water will have to be preserved through light pruning of the trees, and the pond will have to be dredged periodically, if we want to keep it open. The meadow still has to be planted, and then will have to be mown once a year. The water will always be murky -- it's the nature of a small pond-- but as the meadow slows the runoff and intercepts some of the nutrients, I hope it will clear somewhat. We may explore the feasibility of introducing native freshwater clams, which filter particulate matter as they feed.

     In my mind I already see the buttonbush with a branch denuded to its petioles, and searching patiently I find a stout hydrangea sphinx caterpillar. One big turtle dozes on the dam. Behind me butterflies are waltzing in a waist high meadow of native grasses and wildflowers. The goldenrods, asters, and Joe-Pye-weed fuel the monarch butterfly's southward migration; cardinal flower and bee balm do the same for the ruby-throated hummingbird. With mental time lapse I watch the ferns and crested iris claim the steep bank from the daylilies and daffodils.

* Sara Stein, Noah's Garden: Restoring the Ecology of our own Back Yards, 1993, Boston, Houghton Mifflin Company.