Fall 2004

By their seeds ye shall know them

There's an earthy revival in Chicago Wilderness. Every fall, clans of hunter-gatherers fan out across the landscape where they learn to identify plants by their seeds.

They have permits and plans. They're pragmatically filling bags with seeds for ecological restoration. But there's also a powerful drama to it. People are learning to recognize rare seeds and collect them, not so differently from the way earlier peoples sought the nutritious prizes that would feed themselves and their families - a practice that went on for millions of years before our species started farming. This tradition is old. Very old. When we collect seeds, we feel in touch with "the hunt." It's like a peanut hunt or an Easter egg hunt, but a good deal more primal.

Fall is such a rich and primal time. The last of life before the winter. Plants dying but leaving behind those beautiful, magical seeds.

It seemed odd to me at first that a person would fall in love with a plant that wasn't in flower, especially a seedy old plant that's nearly dead.

When I first started falling in love with wild plants, it was spring. The new plants would always be in gorgeous full bloom. Flowers, at least if you're in a receptive mood, just reach out and grab you by the emotions. Beautiful, sexy, vulnerable, mysterious.

But seeds? You can eat them, of course. With a little processing, they make great muffins, chili, pilaf, beer, popcorn, nut butter, and hummus. Even before civilization produced the deep-dish pizza crust, seeds made porridge, gruel, or scrumptious mush. Back then, we sought seeds for sustenance. Now we gather them for spirit. To restore the future.The plant in the photo is goat's rue. The flowers that preceded these earthy starbursts of pods were luscious yellow and pink pea flowers. They're a regular feature of Chicago Wilderness's rare black oak savannas each June and July. Each pod has one row of adorable and perfect little beans. I have no idea what they'd taste like refried. But I do know that they'll make more goat's rue. If they're lucky. Somewhere.

Photo of goat's rue (larger image) by Casey Galvin. Inset photo and words by Stephen Packard. To join a seed hunt, check out the volunteer opportunities with Friends of the Forest Preserves, or see CW's list.