Scotch Broom Pull

Day 317: This one is for everybody who asked, "What's a weed wrench?" after a recent post. Cris Peck, volunteer coordinator with the Nisqually Land Trust was happy to pose with this most marvelous tool during our Scotch broom pull today.

And now for the story. It didn't quite go according to plan. We had been slated to pull broom along the bank of the Mashel River not far above its confluence with the Nisqually, but in the process of descending to the river's edge, the rudimentary trail passed through a thicket of Snowberry. That was when the first evidence of yellowjacket activity made itself felt...on my temple. I ki-yi-yied that I'd been stung, and no sooner than the two people in front of me reacted by picking up the pace, another one nailed me on the back of the neck.  Then one of the other members of the group was attacked.

There didn't seem to be any angry "bees" on the rocky river bar, but once we left the open space to reach the Scotch broom-infested section, I got nailed again on the hand and another member of the group was also stung. Charly, one of the Land Trust's representatives bravely returned to the truck for Benadryl in case any of us had an allergic reaction. I happen to be severely allergic to honeybee stings, not so much so yellowjackets. Nevertheless I'll be miserable for the next few days before my skin turns black and peels off in great thick sheets.

With the Scotch broom heavily guarded by killer yellowjackets, we readjusted our priority to pulling Spotted Knapweed and Tansy Ragwort from the safer shingle. After about two and a half hours of extracting invasives, we all zipped ourselves snugly into our raingear, leaving as little skin exposed as possible, and beat a very hasty retreat up the embankment via a slightly different route. No one was stung on exit.

At this point, one member of the group left us. The three Land Trust representatives and I went to a different site where we spent the next four hours with the weed wrenches, gleefully pulling Scotch broom. I now have in enough hours for a special award which will be handed out at the annual picnic next month. Who says it's not about the numbers?