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Scanning Wildflowers

For the past seven years I have had the necessity to explore various wild corners of Jo Daviess and Carroll counties in search of native flora to scan and add to a collection of images that presently includes 150 species (see over 70 of them on line at ).

Instead of a camera, I use an ordinary office scanner. Any kind that will operate on its side or upside down will do. The thin scanners using LEDs as a light source won't work, however, since they have a poor range of focus. To scan three dimensional objects you need the kind of scanner with a cool white light and fair quality lens inside, costing from $200 to $400. A portable power pack, compact fluorescent lights, laptop computer and a cloth to shade the screen from sunlight, and a chair round out the equipment needed for a day's excursion. Rare species or those on public property need to be scanned in situ. Species that are common can be picked and imaged in the studio.

Oftentimes, common species, though easy to find, are the hardest to scan. The pasture rose, plentiful along the country road in June, will generally fall apart as soon as it's picked or, if it doesn't, wilts within minutes, making scanning back in the studio impossible. Wild roses are best scanned in the back of a truck near where they are growing.

Chicory, a common non-native plant with a lovely flower, will survive a trip back to the studio, but there one finds that, like snowflakes, no two are alike, making it frustratingly hard to know when to stop. I still cringe when driving along a state highway lined with chicory blossoms, knowing that the one I truly need is . . . out there . . . somewhere. I fear that it would take several lifetimes to find it, so I've prudently given up on chicory and moved on to new species I don't have in the collection.

As mentioned, threatened or endangered plants must be scanned in situ. Sometimes this can be surprisingly straightforward. At the Mississippi Palisades State Park there's a trail right through the white and red trilliums. It's an easy matter to bring the equipment up the path from the parking lot and find excellent examples of both rare species right at the trail's edge. Any flower will do. Making things even easier, scanning of these wildflowers is done in delightful spring weather.

Mostly, however, the classified species are difficult to scan. James' clammyweed (Polanisia jamesii) can be found on a few local sand prairies, but imaging them on a hot summer's day requires not only a tolerance to the heat but to flies and, curiously for being mid-day, mosquitos as well, neither of which pay the least bit of attention to DEET. I really thought I had lost it that day in August, 2002, when I was scanning the notorious clammyweed (the threatened plant helped save hundreds of acres of native prairie). Here I was on a remote, hot Mississippi River bank with an office scanner stuck sideways in the sand, taking more than an hour to image a flower no bigger than a dime, all the while hoping my only computer wouldn't fry in the heat and that the insects tasting my blood weren't really carrying West Nile virus as had been lately reported. I recall thinking: "What am I doing?"

The bird's eye primrose, which grows only on the cliffs of the Apple Canyon State Park, was another difficult catch. First I had to get permission from the rangers. “You want to do what with a scanner?” More out of sympathy than conviction, I got their go-ahead and immediately planned an assault on the cliffs for the next spring. In the fall of '04 I tried bringing the equipment in from the top of the cliffs from a trail leading from the campground. This was no good. The trail was rough, steep, and there were too many fallen trees to cross. I concluded that I would have to carry my equipment across the Apple River itself.

A bad head cold delayed my reconnaissance that following March and I only managed to find a rather moth-eaten example of the enchanting bird's eye primrose growing on the lowest part of the cliff on the 10th of April, about a week too late for this early spring flower. I used a small stepladder and a couple of foam blocks to position the scanner to the right level. To my everlasting annoyance, an absolutely perfect specimen of primrose lay one foot higher up, but it might as well have been on the moon given the makeshift tools I had at my disposal. The best way to image the bird's eye primrose in Illinois, I am now convinced, would be to rent a construction crane. They can be had for just $840 a day (a price that reassuringly includes "counter-weight trucking"). I'd park it on the south bank of the river and lower myself and equipment onto the cliffs, over the river. Simple.

In my nature wanderings I have found, as I am sure every other nature lover east and west of the Mississippi River has long known, that the last week of March and the first three, say, of April are the best times to go about in the woods. (I'm from Colorado by way of 30 frenetic years on The Coast so I can be excused for not knowing this fact.) The trees are bare, the ground still damp from the melting snow, a tentative sun exerts itself a few hours each day. The air may be still or carry a light breeze. The little flowers that emerge are boldly visible against the backdrop of the waning brown winter detritus. Best of all, there are no blood-sucking insects taking advantage of a mind focused elsewhere.

With another 150 or so species to go I am assured of employment for some time to come. As Gershwin says, it's nice work if you can get it! And you can get it if you try.

—Richard Pearce