Harlem Hills Nature Preserve holds a special place in my heart because it meant so much to George Fell.
A school paper George wrote as a young boy revealed both his love for such native landscapes and his fear that they were being destroyed. “Every spring this bare, desolate hill becomes a beautiful flower garden, equaling, in some respects, any ever made by man.” After describing the seasonal parade of native prairie blossoms, from pasque flowers in the spring through purple asters in the fall, he concluded his essay, “Soon, however, there will be houses and streets, bordered with bushes and dried up flowers, which really belong in Europe, in place of the pleasant hilltop which is now there.”
George and his wife, Barbara, spent their honeymoon night camping among the prairie flowers of what then was known as Byron Easton Hill.
George co-authored with this father — a noted amateur botanist who inspired his son in his passion for our native plants — The Gravel-Hill Prairies of Rock River Valley in Illinois, of which Harlem Hills is the largest and best remaining.
When his father died, George redoubled his effort to protect Harlem Hills, which he did first by buying the land and then having it dedicated as an Illinois Nature Preserve in August 1973.
Today, the site is co-owned and stewarded by the Natural Land Institute (founded by George) and the Illinois Department of Natural Resources.
This past March, Susan and I visited the site with Jerry Paulson, former executive director of NLI, who worked many years with George. We were too early see pasque flowers — one of the first bloomers on the gravel ridge prairie. And by the time I was able to return in July, the pasque flowers long since had gone to seed.
In past visits, I’ve seen other early season wildflowers. And today, at the height of summer, there are yet other beauties to behold before they give way in turn to the fall bloomers. As George observed, Harlem Hills is indeed, “a beautiful flower garden, equaling, in some respects, any ever made by man.” But its survival is entirely dependent upon humankind, beginning with one man — George Fell.
Fittingly, Liberty Prairie Reserve is anchored by 
So, too, am I OK with the fact that the main entrance to 
Susan and I recently enjoyed an Illinois Nature Preserve-alooza while getting a good workout. Pedaling our bikes along the Old Plank Road Trail, we cruised through Old Plank Road Prairie and Dewey Helmick Nature Preserves. The third site was the Butterfield Creek Headwaters Land and Water Reserve. A few weeks later, we returned to the trail and took the spur to Hickory Creek Barrens Nature Preserve.
It took more than 20 years to acquire the right of way, raise funds and overcome certain local opposition, but in 1997 the first segment of the Old Plank Road Trail was opened to the public. At the ribbon cutting in 1997, 
That same year, the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission named one of the two new nature preserves in his honor. Dewey Helmick Nature Preserve and Old Plank Road Nature Preserve are prototypical railroad prairies. They survived because they remained relatively untouched since the rails were laid more than a century and a half ago — aside from periodic fires set by sparks from passing trains. But that was a good thing, since prairies are dependent upon fire to keep their soils healthy and to keep invasive trees and shrubs from encroaching.
preserve. More than a quarter of it — 575 acres — was dedicated in 1998 as the 
The online history also tells how the other man for whom the site is partly named — Mel Hoff — was appointed the Volunteer Steward in 1982 and formed the West Chicago Prairie Stewardship Group. It took 24 years of sweat equity to remove invasive species, abandoned cars and all kinds of other debris. But eventually, the diverse site — containing freshwater marsh, mesic silt loam savanna, and at least three different kinds of prairie communities — returned to health and was designated as the Truitt Hoff Nature Preserve in 2006.
At the trailhead, the stewardship group had posted its most recent newsletter, that helped me better see and understand the site. Out in the field, I found brush piles, evidence of the clearing reported in the newsletter. I also encountered lusher grasses yet fewer wildflowers than anticipated, which the newsletter chalked up to a wet spring.
The grasses were so dense and lush, in fact, that they all but obscured the narrow footpaths, which reminded me of a question raised at the annual luncheon — about public access to nature preserves. I acknowledged that George Fell was more of a nature-for-nature’s-sake kind of guy. Whereas most of his Illinois Nature Preserves Commissioners preferred wider, more inviting trails to encourage people to explore nature, George was adamant that trails be kept to a minimum, and that visitors should walk single file, like the “Indians” used to do.
Following The Conservation Foundation annual luncheon, I headed out to visit three Nature Preserves in DuPage County. My first stop was 
The 65-acre Churchill Prairie Nature Preserve actually consists of a “complex patchwork” of different kinds of natural area community types, including a couple different kinds of prairie, sedge meadow, mesic upland forest, dry mesic upland forest and savanna.
Earlier in the day, at Truitt Hoff, I was blown away by the diversity of dragonflies patrolling the site. At Churchill Prairie, it was all about birds. Adult bluebirds and Baltimore orioles — flashing blue and bright orange against the green canopy of the savanna — were far too busy gathering insects to feed their nestlings for me to get a good picture. But a downy woodpecker was a little more cooperative.
I had a great time talking to supporters of 
Like several of the Nature Preserves I’ve visited thus far, Belmont Prairie survived by accident, or because someone hadn’t yet gotten around to developing it before it was “discovered.”
In my quest to visit 50 Illinois Nature Preserves this year, I could almost make the case for adding a whole bunch more to my list from having spent this past weekend at a single site: 
My fellow writers offered books on a wide range of subjects — from historic bridges to presidential biographies, from Maxwell Street to labor history. My good friend Rich Cahan and his 
Also there was Mike MacDonald, whose exquisitely handsome 
Mike features 28 nature preserves in his book, from 
According to Google Maps, the preserve was accessible via a frontage road to I-55. However, turning onto the road, I immediately came to a closed gate, beyond which lay an unpaved, overgrown two-track.
To most folks, speeding by on the highway, then and now, Grant Creek Nature Preserve — if noticed at all — probably seems a fallow farm field at best. A weed patch at worst, waiting for some better use to come along. But, according to the 
As it turned out, it seemed only fitting to be talking about George Fell at 
The preserve is described as the Wisconsin Desert, which technically might be true but grossly undersells the beauty of the site. True, as a sand prairie its soils drain quickly creating a hot, droughty environment that is home to relatively sparse vegetation, including the likes of prickly pear cactus — and lots of it. But, this cool, misty, late April morning, following a recent prairie burn, it is carpeted with bird’s foot violet and early buttercup, and dotted with spikes of cream white indigo.
The thousand-acre site is filled, too, this morning with a chamber concert of birdsong. The four-note descants of eastern meadowlarks echo off the adjacent bluffs, while blue birds and yellow-rumped warblers harvest the low vegetation for a breakfast of bugs. The lark sparrows are in a more amorous mood, the males splaying their distinct tail feathers in the hope of attracting a mate.
As it turns out, Spring Green Preserve also has has an indirect but distinct connection to George Fell. 
Ironclad protection for natural lands and farmland alike is what the Driftless Area needs right now. Attending the talk at Arcadia Books was David Clutter. Years ago, he used to work for the 
For those who may not know, the Driftless Area — primarily southwest Wisconsin, but also parts of southeastern Minnesota, northeastern Iowa and northwestern Illinois — derives its name from the lack drift. Drift is the gravel, sand, clay, rocks, etc. left behind by retreating glaciers. There isn’t any drift in the Driftless Area because, for a combination of reasons, the glaciers that once blanketed the midwest didn’t cover this area. The Driftless Area — unlike the flat, glacier-scoured lands surrounding it — is one of exceptional beauty for the rolling hills, rugged bluffs, deep valleys, bucolic farmsteads and world-class natural areas.
To help fight the good fight, the 
What initially lured Susan and me to make the trip up to Ryerson Woods was the art. The Brushwood Center was hosting an exhibition of photographs by 
I imagine that what fuels Carol to capture all these many species on film is much the same as drove George Fell to establish the Illinois Nature Preserves Commission. George, too, was motivated by beauty and biodiversity to protect every last scrap of prairie, wetland, woodland, bog, fen and every other kind of natural area remaining in the state before they were plowed up or paved over.
