Look hard and you can see the reddish hues of the Flint Hills in the fall.
Ah yes, autumn. Time to get out and enjoy some good fall color. As the landscape changes with the seasons, summer fading to fall, then green turns to red.
If you’ve read Flint Hills, Tall Grass long enough, then you know I am certainly not referring to trees. Of course, for most people, the changing color of the trees is the highlight of fall. Folks take long driving trips to woods and forests, just to see the trees change color. In the prairie, however, another color change occurs, but like many aspects of the prairie, you have to look harder to appreciate it.
Grasses have leaves, obviously, and many leaves change color, even if they are long and skinny and grow up from the ground. The stems from which those leaves grow can also change color. For most tall grasses of the prairie, that means going from green to golden brown as the warm-season grass turns dormant.
Early morning light brings out the rouge in the grass.
Take Indian grass for example. With sufficient rainfall in the summer — and there certainly has been sufficient rainfall in the Flint Hills this summer — Indian grass will stay green right up until it matures into shades of golden brown in early autumn.
Other grasses, however, like big and little bluestem, can turn various shades of red as the weather cools and the days shorten. That is especially true for little bluestem, or bunch grass, which often blushes deep red in the fall. Clumps of little bluestem often dominate the high ground in the Kansas Flint Hills. Where it does, it is as if someone has spilled rouge across the terraced slopes.
Of course, a light crimson swath across a flint hill is a far cry from the colorful explosions found in forested hills of the northeast, at least to most people. My preferences, however, draw me into the subtle shades of the tallgrass prairie. It’s an acquired taste, I admit, but one which I enjoy because so many others fail to appreciate how grasslands transform themselves as the seasons change.
Even the stem of bluestem grass turns red in the fall.
For example, just last week I was waiting for someone at the public trailhead of the Konza Prairie Biological Station. As I waited, I studied the field of tall grasses that grew near the parking lot. Starting last spring, I noted in the field the emergence of all the major prairie grasses. By late summer, the big bluestem and Indian grass had reached over seven feet high. Now, as fall took over, the grasses were beginning to go dormant. Shorter in height, but growing in thicker clumps, the little bluestem patches were turning a faint, but discernable reddish brown, adding a mix of color to this small patch of prairie.
While I enjoyed the show, a hiker emerged from the trail, two cameras slung over his neck and shoulder. He expressed his deep disappointment that the trees of the Konza’s gallery forest had not yet turned to any showy fall colors. His expectations, encouraged by a wet growing season and plenty of sunshine, were for some color in the oaks of the forest along King’s Creek. Not having found any, he was not at all satisfied with the hike.
I pointed out the color of the little bluestem growing before us and noted the grass itself can bring some interesting colors to the tallgrass prairie. He still was not satisfied and drove away frustrated.
I’m really not trying to be some elitist snob about this, but I do find some satisfaction in learning to appreciate what so many others miss.
If you really must have bright fall colors, look for some smooth sumac.
Within the last couple of months, I have heard two different people claim the Kansas Flint Hills were an “in-your-face landscape.” I think they meant the Flint Hills have some magnificent vistas that stretch to the horizon and fill your senses. That is certainly true, to a degree, but it is not the whole story of the Flint Hills. I have a lot of appreciation for the folks that used the expression, but I have to disagree with the evaluation of this place.
For me, the Flint Hills are not an “in-your-face landscape,” but more like an “under-your-nose landscape.” I think many of the best parts of the tallgrass prairie and the limestone-and-flint hills are right in front of you, but you have to look down and study a bit to see it. You can miss a lot of what makes the Flint Hills a special place if you don’t look down, because a lot of it is right there, under your nose.
I appreciate the comment made by Flint Hills cowboy author Jim Hoy, when he says the Flint Hills don’t take your breath away, they give you the chance to catch it.
So if you can get out into the hills soon, take the time to find some blushing bluestem. Wait for the right light, study the grass, and appreciate the fall colors.
