Las Vegas Sun

March 28, 2024

Botanist works to save only native poppy

Teri Knight walks through a vacant lot near the runway of the North Las Vegas Air Terminal, identifying the patches of brilliant yellow flowers as California bearpaw poppies.

Knight stops at one of the taller plants, a waist-high array of about 500 yellow flowers on slender stalks shooting up from a base of fuzzy green leaves that resemble the bear paws after which they are named.

"This is one of the more robust specimens I've seen," Knight says as she kneels to examine one of the many five-toed leaves at the base of the plant clinging to the gypsum soil.

It's one of a dwindling number. As a botanist for the Nature Conservancy, Knight has monitored the population of the misleadingly named native for the last 20 years as its domain, vitality and genetic diversity have diminished.

"My role has been to document its vigor and health," Knight says. "My new role is watching it being extirpated, and reporting that to the state. We can tell by the data that this plant is being imperiled."

Right now, the best hope for saving the bearpoppy is this field of flowers scattered among the tumbleweeds at the air terminal, Knight says. The Clark County Department of Aviation and the federal Bureau of Land Management are trying to get the 110-acre site designated as a conservation easement under state law.

That in itself represents a huge attitude change among local officials. Only two years ago, county and airport officials wanted to build a golf course on the same site.

"This is defensible," Knight says. "There are very few places in the valley where you can see anything approaching this amount in one area."

In two decades, the plant has literally lost ground to urban development -- about 40 percent of the original poppy fields in the valley no longer exist, and the number of plants hovers around 100,000, Knight says.

That equals roughly one plant for every 10 residents.

"The bearpoppy is declining rapidly in the Las Vegas Valley because we're losing populations to urban development," says Janet Bair, a biologist with the Nevada office of the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service's endangered species branch.

The Fish & Wildlife Service currently considers the plant a species of concern, not an official category, but the next step away from being considered for reclassification as a threatened or endangered species.

If something isn't done soon to reverse that trend, says Bair, the species could become a candidate for the federal endangered species list.

Bair notes that such a classification would add layers of bureaucracy to what developers already face to get permission to build. "The process would become a lot more complicated," she says.

For that reason, the bearpoppy tops the list proposed for a multiple species habitat plan being developed to protect other plant and animal life under siege from development.

"They're not happy with the population declining," says county analyst Chris Robinson, who supervises the desert tortoise conservation management plan. "Unless somebody does something about it, it's likely to be listed."

If that happens, the growth that Clark County has seen over the last decade could slow down dramatically, she says.

"That would or could effectively stop development, as they (bearpoppies) exist on developable lands," she said.

Unlike the desert tortoise, the California bearpaw poppy can't be plucked out of the ground and moved to another spot. Like other natives of Southern Nevada, they plant deep roots and don't take well to being pushed around.

"We've had a 100 percent mortality rate with transplant experiments," Knight says. "They die before you can get them into your car."

Even attempts to move entire sections of land have failed, Knight says, because of the plant's seemingly unending tap roots. A juvenile fuzzball two inches in diameter already has a two-foot tap root, she says, and older plants have roots six feet or longer.

Scientists haven't unlocked the secret of germination yet, either, although it seems to involve a beetle and a bee that live to pollinate the bearpaw poppy, Knight says. Years of experimentation and study have yet to produce results.

"These plants should be in everyone's front yard," Knight says. "If we can figure out how to make them germinate, they'd be perfect for xeriscaping (desert landscaping)."

Theoretically, the bearpoppy already enjoys protection as a state-listed species. Under Nevada law, any state-listed species require developers to obtain a take permit before destroying plants on their property.

"Restrictions are in place to preserve the plant, but they are not being met," Knight says. "The assumption is that the city and county would require those permits before they approve zoning, but that would be a false assumption."

A glaring example of that lack of coordination is the North Las Vegas City Council's approval of the Regional Transportation Commission's $34 million bus maintenance facility on the northwest corner of Smoke Ranch and Simmons roads -- in the southern edge of the poppy field that county and airport officials are now trying to protect.

Those kind of decisions could be avoided if the authority for permitting lay with whatever entity was responsible for zoning decisions, she says.

"The proper area for this permit should be with the county or city, just as the desert tortoise permit is for grading," Knight says. "County and city planners should know this. That coordination isn't happening at all."

Those measures haven't been enforced in Clark County because of a lack of inter-agency cooperation, says Dan Greytak, nursery coordinator for the Nevada Division of Forestry.

"We've been harping on them for doing it for a desert tortoise, why can't they do it for a plant," Greytak says. "The bureaucracy has ignored it. They tend to say, oh well, it's just another layer of red tape."

Lucy Stewart, director of current planning for Clark County, didn't even know the statute or permit existed when asked about coordination efforts with the state.

"I don't know anything about it," said Stewart, whose office requires developers to have a desert tortoise permit before they can begin grading. "Maybe we need to get involved."

Greytak admits the division's enforcement staff is stretched thin. There's one enforcement officer for all of Southern Nevada, and that person is busy chasing cactus poachers.

Greytak says the county needs to cooperate with the state to ensure enforcement of the permitting process. Such efforts have worked in Washoe County, where the local zoning applications have check-off boxes for endangered and threatened species, such as the Tahoe yellow cress, he says.

"We're going to start coordinating because the feds are getting ready to list it," Greytak says. "That is a considerable more hardship on landowners than if it was just state-listed."

Greytak says it would be easy for county officials to notify landowners because they know who has bearpoppies on their property.

"These things have been mapped a long time," Greytak says.

Getting listed would also present a considerable hardship for county and state transportation officials, who would have to realign beltways and move entire interchanges if bearpoppies stood in their way, Greytak says.

"We want to work with landowners," Greytak says. "We have a take provision that allows them to take those plants. If this goes to the federal level, nobody can take those plants for any reason. We have a chance to work with people and have a win-win situation. The feds don't have that option."

Several things have to be weighed before a species becomes a candidate for listing, Bair says. One of the most important is genetic diversity of the remaining population.

"We've identified several populations in the Las Vegas Valley that are genetically unique," Bair says. "If we lose those populations, that will be a significant decline in species aptitude for long-term survival."

Another factor is whether effective protection measures are in place, she says.

The last thing Knight wants is to see the population decline to the point that the feds step in.

"I would feel like I have failed if we get a listing," she said. "That would mean we have not kept it under control."

State, local and federal agency officials have met to discuss strategies that can save the bearpoppy and keep it from being federally listed. So far, the most viable proposal appears to be the conservation area proposed for the North Las Vegas Air Terminal.

That alone represents a huge change in local officials' awareness of the poppy problem. Only two years ago, county and airport officials wanted to build a golf course on the 110 acres they now are proposing for a conservation easement.

"This is a huge, robust and defensible population," Knight says, acknowledging it may be the largest stand remaining in the Las Vegas Valley that isn't protected. Two other locations, near the Interstate 15/Lamb Boulevard interchange and in Area 3 at Nellis Air Force Base, are also being considered for conservation easements.

Each of the populations is genetically distinct, Knight says, a boon for scientific and medical labs trying to see if the plant's unique alkaloids have any medical or pharmaceutical value.

The task force also is developing alternatives for a Southern Nevada Water Authority pipeline that would otherwise destroy a large number of plants, and discuss management opportunities for about 2,000 plants in the water authority's north well field on Valley View Boulevard that could be threatened by the state's plans to widen U.S. 95.

Other elements for improving the plant's chances for survival include finalizing the BLM's habitat management plan, continuing studies in genetics and pollination, and coming up with a conservation strategy to prevent disturbance of the poppy's viability.

Another thing that might help is changing the plant's name. "It should probably be called the Nevada bearpaw poppy," Bair says.

Despite its name, the bearpaw poppy is the only species of plant endemic to Southern Nevada, Knight says. The name is an accident of fate, as well as a public relations nightmare, she says. Had it been named the Lucky Lady bear poppy, people might have rallied around its protection the way many have taken to the desert tortoise.

The poppy got its name from a group of Death Valley explorers in 1861 who didn't know where they were when they first saw the plant, Knight explains. The Death Valley expedition thought it was in the California territory, not the future Silver State, when it discovered the plant, and the name stuck.

"It's part of our ecological matrix, and part of our local heritage," Knight says. "Nowhere else in this part of the galaxy where this poppy occurs."

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