April 1, 2016
Leaf Litter
“What the heck??”
That was my first thought the other day as I awoke to a sound that was familiar, yet foreign—especially to my sleep-fogged brain.
The noise was loud, for sure, and mechanical in nature, like someone was vacuuming with a vengeance just outside my window.
Lawn mower? Nope, too high in pitch. Chain saw? Nah, not enough vroom. Finally, after more thought than I care to admit, I figured it out: A leaf blower.
Ugh.
Now I don’t want to come across as anti-yardwork. I know a good many people who take pride in their property and its curb appeal. But two things started to bug me as I lay there listening to that blasted gas-powered wind machine. One, it was 7a.m. On a Saturday, no less. And two, an awful lot of critters were dying.
I hate that.
The problem is that leaf litter, as it’s referred to even by people who love it, is a wonderfully complex mixture of organic matter deposited—for free, mind you—by our local trees, shrubs and herbaceous plants. It’s home to literally thousands of different species, ranging from small microbes to large and familiar friends like daddy longlegs and woolly bear caterpillars.
Luna moths, those striking, ethereal creatures that flutter in summer moonglow, overwinter as cocoons in leaf litter. Mourning cloak butterflies, one of only a handful of lepidopterans that spend the winter in their adult life stage, take shelter in leaf litter. The eggs of many other species of butterflies and moths also cling to those leaves that are summarily raked and blown into oblivion.
Spiders and centipedes—I know, not as lovable as luna moths, but still valuable—reside in leaf litter too. These predators stalk and consume creatures we would deem troublesome, including many species of flies and beetles, basically providing free insect control. That is, unless they end up inside a bag labeled Lawn Waste. When the invertebrates go away, so too do foraging opportunities for insectivorous birds. Fox sparrows. Eastern towhees. Brown thrashers.
The other day I was talking with someone about how northern flickers seem to be harder to find than they used to. You know where flickers like to forage? In leaf litter. Hmm.
By taking away leaf litter, we deprive our trees and shrubs of the nutrients they worked so hard to produce during the previous growing season. Sure, a lot of times the leaves are replaced by mulch. But what does this substance, often trucked in and tainted with dyes, add to the growing environment? It may help conserve moisture—which is a very good thing—but ecologically speaking it is a poor substitute for the diversity present in natural litter.
So what’s a poor suburbanite to do? None of us want to be That Neighbor—you know, the one with the unkempt landscaping and messy yard. But I do feel there’s room for compromise.
Maybe, just this one year, try conserving your leaf litter. Keep what’s left from last fall—even the stuff that blew over from That Neighbor–and vow to use these next six months to develop a plan for this year’s coming bounty. Identify shrubs and planting beds that could benefit from a blanket of leaf mulch.
Rake it as you feel need, but don’t shred it. Lots of life lives in those leaves.
Plus, shredders are really noisy.
Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services at the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center, a facility of the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at 630-513-4346 or potto@stcparks.org.
Bound by silky strands, the cocoon
of a giant silkmoth (foreground)
stands out among the leaf litter at Hickory Knolls Discovery Center.