Common Yarrow: An Uncommon Conundrum

Common yarrow (Achillea millefolium) was one of the earliest plants I added to my butterfly garden. It definitely attracts pollinators and it showed up on several lists of best plants for my area. This spring, I even gave some to several neighbors because of my success with it. Soon after, I was forced to reconsider the whole enterprise when I saw yarrow on a list of non-native, invasive species for this region. What exactly was going on here? Did I make a mistake years ago that had perpetuated all this time? Was there some new information about this plant? What else might I be wrong about in all my dedicated efforts to plant a mostly native garden? Was my whole crusade to support biodiversity a fool’s errand?

I started researching with a lot of my go-to sources. Sure enough, some of them showed it as non-native, others as native, and still others as… both. They didn’t all agree on the scientific name, either. What? So I started using search terms like “yarrow native range” and “yarrow native distribution,” which shed very little light on the matter. Instead my search presented me with phrases like “native to the Northern hemisphere” and “cirumboreal distribution.” This was about as useful as when you’re eight and a grown-up asks you where you live, and with a mischievous grin you say: “Earth.”

A wild specimen at Blue Mash Nature Trail

Further reading started to clear this up: yes, it is native to Asia, Europe, and North America and yes that native range more or less includes all of the United States… but it’s also much more complicated. I was beginning to see how a plant could be both “native” and “introduced” to the same place, but I wasn’t quite getting it until I came across this excellent piece. Nowhere else could I find all of the pieces of the puzzle so elegantly combined. I won’t try to do the same here but essentially it is a species complex, there are many cultivars, and human interaction with the plant is extensive. Some of what we call Achillea millefolium is native, some is not, some may have characters of both the native and non-native varieties, and good luck to any non-biologists determining if an individual specimen is locally native!

The linked history with human activities makes me start thinking in circles. That interaction is over such a long time scale that it blurs the line between native and introduced. If humans aided its distribution, but over tens of thousands of years in lockstep with our own expansion, was that a natural process? This to me is an astonishingly fascinating question. It is certainly much different than one guy bringing a hundred starlings to a new continent, but is it also different from a plant gradually increasing its range as its seeds are distributed by birds? If so, just how different? Where is the line between humans as a part of nature and humans disrupting or interfering with nature? How we answer these questions can shape the very core of environmentalism, and I doubt there is one right answer.

This started as one small plant in the corner of this large stump.

Aside from that rabbit hole of natural philosophy, I also needed to decide if I still believed common yarrow was a good choice for my butterfly garden. Are its native or invasive characters stronger? I don’t immediately disregard all non-native plants in my landscape choices, but I do typically steer clear of anything that’s a known invasive in my area. I have noticed that this plant spreads aggressively – as predicted by every source I consulted years ago. Most of what I have planted is the white-flowering, “natural” variety and not one of the brightly-colored cultivars. It does provide the ecosystem function of attracting pollinators and it is a host plant for some local butterfly species. I can control the spread in various ways and it is hardy and low-maintenance. Is it a net benefit to the local ecosystem? I could envision a reasonable defense of either position based on my understanding of the available facts. A purist might say that with no way of knowing for certain that your plant is a locally native ecotype (or technically a native species at all) one should never include that plant in support of biodiversity. A non-purist might counter that because it serves the ecological function of a native, and some related forms are native, there’s no reason to exclude it. I believe in this case there are angels on both shoulders who happen to disagree.

For now, I am listening to the angel on the non-purist shoulder. I will be looking to replace any brightly-colored varieties with other plants, since I know for sure those are cultivars. I will keep the white-flowered specimens I have and manually restrict their spread. It hasn’t (so far) choked out any of my other plants, but there are plenty of other avenues to adding yellow and pink blooms to my garden for color balance. Fortunately, this isn’t an irreversible decision. I’m perfectly willing to reevaluate a matter this cloudy now and again. I am still building my knowledge base on Maryland native plants and as my familiarity with other species increases I may find there is no longer room for a plant that walks in both the native and invasive worlds.

One plant marked for removal…
…and another

Intro to Butterfly Gardens

Planting a butterfly garden was one of my first landscaping priorities after moving into my home in 2014. On one level, this was motivated by the idea that butterflies are pretty, and it would therefore be cool to see a lot of them often. This is true, and a perfectly fine motivation, but “butterfly garden” is a bit of a misnomer, at least in terms of the endgame. Butterflies (and the other pollinators attracted to the same plants) are hugely important to the ecosystem. Butterfly larvae are a major food source for birds and small mammals – some birds feed almost exclusively on caterpillars of a single species. Increasing local butterfly diversity and population will thus increase the local overall biodiversity and biomass, and sometimes dramatically. It doesn’t have quite the same ring, but I like to think of my garden as a “biodiversity garden.” Some call them “native plant gardens,” or a similar variant. whatever the term, the idea is to support the ecosystem by planting plants that have naturally evolved with other life in the area over millennia.

img_2228
About half of my butterfly garden as of this July.

Designing a butterfly garden, as any garden, begins with deciding what you wish to plant. The goal here is to include mostly native plants that will attract butterflies (and moths and skippers – I probably should be saying “lepidopterans”). Butterflies rely on plants for food during both active stages of their life cycle: the adults feed on nectar and the caterpillars feed on leaves. Like humans, the young of butterflies can range from not picky (generalist) to extremely picky (specialist) eaters. The monarch is the classic example of a specialist – its caterpillars will only feed on milkweeds (Asclepias species). Plants a given species will eat are called “host plants” for the species, and females will only lay their eggs on suitable plants. Adults are typically much more cosmopolitan in their tastes, but feed on nectar. A successful butterfly garden will feature nectar plants to attract the butterflies and host plants to keep them there and propagate them. Of course, many plants serve both purposes, making them ideal choices.

img_2590
Two monarch caterpillars on a common milkweed leaf.

There seems to be some debate regarding the ideal ratio of host plants to nectar plants. My beginner’s take is that it probably doesn’t matter much as long as both are present in significant quantities. However, the more limited the space the more selective one must be. I have hedged my bets a bit by planting as many plants as possible which fill both roles and building around those. Additionally, it’s helpful to consider what is planted elsewhere in your yard and immediate neighborhood. Butterflies after all will not recognize the boundaries of your garden or your property, so plants nearby can also contribute. Many trees and shrubs which may not be practical fits in your butterfly garden space are host plants for a diverse mixture of butterflies and moths. Most common oaks, for example, host hundreds of caterpillar species. Spicebush (Lindera benzoin) is a host plant for the appropriately named spicebush swallowtail. Viburnums host many species and produce lovely white flower clusters.

Aside from plants, a number of other things can encourage butterflies to visit your garden or extend their stay. Many butterflies will feed on overripe fruit, so a suspended tray of fruit can be a nice feature. Some feeders include a sponge soaked in sugary water as well. Butterflies also engage in a behavior called “puddling” to soak up nutrients from wet soil, and providing them with a space to do so can entice them to hang around longer. You can purchase a puddler or make your own, or simply rely on mud puddles. Butterfly houses can also be bought or built as encouragement for your visitors to hang around. Rock piles and/or log piles can serve a similar function (providing shelter from weather and predators). It’s also a good idea to add a place for humans to sit and observe the wildlife; I built a bench from (mostly) natural wood for this purpose.

img_2871
Caterpillars of the milkweed tussock moth

Much of the source material I turned to when planning my butterfly garden focused pretty extensively on monarchs and milkweeds. It led me to wonder why monarchs in particular get so much of the butterfly press, but the more I think about it the more it makes sense. Monarchs are beautiful, large butterflies that are well known. Because of the viceroy, they’re part of the definitive example of Batesian mimicry. They are also in trouble because milkweeds are in trouble. As I’ve mentioned, their larvae will only eat milkweeds. As one might infer from the name, these plants have long been regarded as, well, weeds. People have been systematically removing milkweeds from a lot of areas, unwittingly endangering monarchs in the process. It isn’t just a problem for monarchs, though. The milkweed tussock moth, small and large milkweed bugs, red milkweed beetle, and other insects all rely heavily on Asclepias. The relationship between milkweeds and monarchs is a very illustrative example, but far from the only example. Adult butterflies will feed on the nectar of non-native flowers, but virtually no non-native plant can host a native caterpillar.

img_2586
Nymphs of the large milkweed bug clustering on a seed pod

img_2047
Red milkweed beetles on – you guessed it – milkweed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This returns me to the butterfly garden’s true purpose: to contribute ecological functions to the local biosphere. The native host and nectar plants have evolved relationships with many local forms of life on a grand time scale. Restoring these plants to an area also restores those relationships. Alien plants can stand in and provide some of the ecological functions, but not nearly all. I won’t advocate for the complete removal of all non-natives from gardens and other home landscaping, and I make concessions in this area myself. Increasing the number and variety of native plants in one’s yard, though, is a noble goal and a butterfly garden provides an excellent framework for doing so.

 

img_2849
A pair of eastern tailed-blues on a New England aster

Further Reading:

North American Butterfly Association

Our Habitat Garden

The Butterfly Website

Bringing Nature Home