Stewardship Stories
Making Space for Prairie:
Restoring a Sacred Landscape
story by Kurt Kreiter
The author overlooks prairie reconstruction
at Our Lady of the Prairie Retreat in Clinton County.
In the mid-1800s, Emily Dickinson, the prolific American poet, wrote: “To Make a Prairie.”
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.
Beautiful words about a sacred place—one I have come to understand better. Over the past six years, I have experienced an Iowa prairie reconstruction and now appreciate the prairie’s aesthetic beauty.
Throughout my youth, I had a great love of the outdoors
and was often introduced to the natural world.
Growing up on a Scott County, Iowa, farm, I thought the focus of my adulthood would be cultivating a different kind of field, one rooted in Zea mays, or what we have come to know as corn. But sometime around 1980, my father, a man of few words, let me know he expected me to get a college education instead of pursuing a life on the family farm. So, with a love of nature and an admiration for my high school biology teacher, I decided to pursue a career in education.
As a classroom biology teacher for 25 years, I shared my love of nature with generations of students through lessons and field experiences. In doing so, I became much more familiar with the fauna and flora of the temperate deciduous forests of Eastern Iowa. I never would have considered myself an expert. Still, I gained a much greater appreciation for the plants and animals in our local ecosystems and enjoyed giving tours and lectures related to spring wildflowers and migratory birds.
I definitely chose the right profession and absolutely loved my time as a classroom biology teacher.
It wasn’t until I retired after a 33-year career that I became familiar with one of the most historically significant—and perhaps most beautiful—ecosystems in Iowa. Iowa is one of many states east of the Rocky Mountains that had vast tracts of prairie. At one time, Iowa had the highest percentage of prairie cover of any state, about 80% of its total area, to be more specific.
There are technically several “types” of prairies that occur within Iowa’s landscape, categorized by moisture and soil conditions. After John Deere invented the self-scouring steel plow in 1837, prairies changed quickly. And since that time, the rich soil produced over millennia allowed Iowa to become a world leader in corn and soybean production—all at the expense of the once-dominant prairie. Today, just 0.1% of Iowa’s original 30 million prairie acres remain. These unplowed remnant tracts are largest in western Iowa’s Loess Hills, but there are others scattered throughout the state, including some in Eastern Iowa.
And yet, like most native Iowans, I knew very little about the history of our prairies and am certain I had never seen one. It wasn’t until my Fall Flora professor, Dr. Bohdan Dziadyk (Augustana College, Illinois), brought me to visit a remnant prairie in the Quad Cities in 1987 that I first laid eyes on one. But I was a young and unappreciative college student, so I didn’t give it much thought. Now, as a retired career educator, I am getting an informal education—one I deeply appreciate.
The grasses, wildflowers, and time of day/year continually change the color and appearance of the tallgrass prairie.
Through my retirement work at Our Lady of the Prairie Retreat in Clinton County, I have become part of a prairie reconstruction. The property is owned and operated by the Congregation of the Humility of Mary, which dedicates most of its 100 acres to the reconstruction project that fits into their “Care of Creation” mission.
My part-time role involves all sorts of tasks related to the retreat center and the 100-acre property. Through this work, I experience and love the prairie up close. I now recognize the major grasses that make up the bulk of the vegetation. I know the differences between the flower heads of switchgrass, Indiangrass, Canada wild rye, and, of course, big bluestem. I keep logs of the various flowers that emerge throughout the year and create presentations to share that knowledge and beauty with others.
I witness the migrating birds as well as those that stick around and use all the resources the prairie has to offer. I notice and learn about the many pollinators that are critical to sustaining the prairie, as well as life as we know it. I see the harmony of all the biotic and abiotic factors in this amazing web of life, and I know this place is not an untidy, chaotic mess, but the perfect interaction of nature in harmony. I’m still no expert, but I love giving tours and presentations about my newfound wisdom.
I enjoyed my time growing up on the farm, and at Our Lady of the Prairie, one of my favorite activities is working on the tractor.
There is work there too. A lot of it. It takes a great deal of time and energy to maintain and advance our prairie reconstruction. We are constantly battling invasives, which I now also easily recognize. I am envious of the time when elk and bison roamed the prairie and helped keep those invasives in check.
I have educated myself through local experts and organizations that are involved in similar pursuits. I was even lucky enough to sit down with Dr. Daryl Smith (Professor Emeritus, UNI), who is the founding director of the Tallgrass Prairie Center and executive director of an incredible film about the prairie, America’s Lost Landscape: The Tallgrass Prairie. I attempted to absorb as much as I possibly could in our time together, but I was mostly just entranced by his vast knowledge of the prairie.
View of the prairie restoration at Our Lady of the Prairie, south of Wheatland, IA, overlooking the Wapsipinicon River on the horizon.
Our efforts are happening on a very small scale, especially when you look at how vast the planet is—and we will never be able to turn back time and regain what was lost—but there is something very satisfying and rewarding about making the effort. I believe we all need a little nature in our lives, and conservation practices are not only a way to fill that void but also to pay it forward so that others can come and have an experience that eluded me in my youth, even if it’s on a very small scale. Collectively, though, all our seemingly small efforts add up to make a much bigger impact than we think.
In a landscape defined by space—both what remains and what has been lost—American writer Gertrude Stein once observed, “In the United States, there is more space where nobody is than where anybody is. That is what makes America what it is."
I hope I never lose my love of learning and of nature.
Kurt Kreiter is a retired career educator. From 1987-2012, he was a high school Biology and Anatomy & Physiology teacher at Central DeWitt and served as the district’s activities director during his final eight years, being named the Southeast District AD of the Year in 2020. He was also a longtime head wrestling and head football coach and authored the book Become the Inspiration: Leadership Principles & Fundamentals for the Beginning Coach. During his retirement, Kurt has worked in land stewardship for Our Lady of the Prairie Retreat in Wheatland, Iowa, with a focus on woodland, tallgrass prairie, and wetland ecosystems. He has also worked as an adjunct professor at the University of Memphis, St. Ambrose University, and UW-Platteville.
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