Feet of turkey

The claws of turkeyfoot grow high over the prairie.

Thank goodness for common names. I mean, who can get all excited about Andropogon gerardii? What images come to mind when you wrap your tongue around that collection of Latin terms? Do those words conjure up a field of head-high grass tossed like waves in the wind on a warm autumn evening? Probably not.

The name Big Bluestem works a little better, because this grass is big and under the right conditions, some stands of big bluestem grow with a bluish-gray hue. There is, however, a much better moniker to hang on this king of the tallgrass prairie grasses: turkeyfoot. Now there’s a name to conjure up images.

Any discussion of the grasses of the tallgrass prairie must begin with the tallest of the tall, the dominant species that once filled the fields of America’s heartland. Big bluestem is without a doubt the gold standard by which other native tallgrass species must be measured. In good conditions, big bluestem can easily reach seven feet or more in height and it often dominates an open field.

The stories told by early pioneers of getting lost in grass over their heads only a short distance from their homes usually referred to stands of big bluestem. The same is true for the pioneers who spoke of grass that reached their shoulders while they sat on their horse. Now imagine a field of such grass stretching from eastern Kansas, through Missouri and Illinois, to the western edge of Indiana, then imagine how the wind made flowing waves of grass from one end to the other and you will begin to understand why the early explorers referred to the prairie as a sea of grass.

Turkeyfoot can reach 7-8 feet in height, sometimes more in the right conditions.

Big bluestem prefers deep soil and does very well in lowlands, but most of the land fitting that description is also good agricultural land and has been plowed into crops. Big bluestem grows on the Flint Hills, but the rocky soil keeps it from reaching its full vertical potential. Cattle love it, preferring big bluestem over most other grasses they find, which means big bluestem doesn’t get too tall in grazed pastures. The combination of these factors means finding large stands of really tall big bluestem grass is difficult.

When you are fortunate enough to come across a good stand of big bluestem in late summer, when it has reached its full height, you know right away what you are looking at. The inflorescence, or flowers, grow out the top of the stem in three or four spikes, called racemes. To understand what I mean, take the foot of a turkey and hold it upside down, with the claws pointing upward. That’s what big bluestem looks like, hence the name turkeyfoot.

The anthers are beginning to break out on the racemes of this tukeyfoot. If you look closely, you can see the hair-like awl growing from the spikelet on the far right.

It is late August in the prairie, which means those turkeyfoot racemes are breaking out into flower. Tiny stigmas and anthers break out of the spikes with the orange or red anthers hanging down. You have to get close and look hard, because as big as turkeyfoot can grow the flowers remain small and hard to see.

Later, the seeds will grow from the spikes, bringing food to birds. When the first frost comes in the fall, go back to the turkeyfoot and see how the stem has turned a dark red, adding another fall color to the prairie if the stand of grass is thick enough. Who says you have to have trees to get fall color?

But what of the Latin name, Andropogon gerardii? While uninspiring from the viewpoint of a lover of tallgrass prairie, the name serves its purpose. Andropogon is Latin for “man” and gerardii refers to the French name Gerard — Gerald or Jerry in English. I’m guessing, but I would imagine a French botanist named Jerry — okay, Gerard — first classified the plant and gave it his name.

Even so, I still prefer turkeyfoot.