By Savannah Magoteaux

They scatter ahead of the mower, jump from garden rows, cling to fence posts and seem to rise out of the pasture with every step. One or two grasshoppers might still feel like part of summer. A few more may not seem like much of a problem. But when the ground looks like it is moving, and every tomato plant, flower bed or patch of green grass seems to have bite marks, grasshoppers quickly move from background noise to real irritation.

In Oklahoma, grasshoppers are nothing new. They are part of the late-summer landscape, especially in hot, dry years. While they may seem to appear all at once, their numbers usually build over time.

Eggs are laid in the soil, often in undisturbed grassy or weedy areas, and young grasshoppers begin hatching in the spring. As the season progresses, they grow larger, become more mobile and are much easier to notice.

By late summer, many grasshoppers are no longer tiny insects tucked away in roadside grass. They are bigger, stronger and able to move longer distances. That is when homeowners, gardeners and producers often begin seeing the real damage.

Grasshoppers feed by chewing. That means the damage they leave behind is often easy to recognize. Leaves may look ragged, stripped or full of holes. In gardens, they may chew on vegetables, flowers and young plants. In pastures and hay fields, heavy numbers can add pressure to forage that is already dealing with heat, drought or grazing. Around barns, yards

and field edges, they may seem to be everywhere at once.

Weather can play a major role in how bad grasshoppers become. Warm, dry conditions are often favorable for them. Drought can reduce some of the natural diseases that help keep grasshopper numbers in check, and when native grasses or weeds begin to dry down, grasshoppers may move toward any green growth they can find. That may be a vegetable garden, irrigated lawn, flower bed, crop edge or low area of pasture that still has something tender left to eat.

The frustrating part is that by the time most people are truly tired of grasshoppers, they are also harder to control. Grasshoppers are much easier to manage when they are small and concentrated in hatching areas. Once they are large enough to fly or move freely across a property, control becomes more difficult and often less effective.

That does not mean there is nothing to do. It just means timing matters.

For gardeners, barriers can

help protect valuable plants, especially when plants are young. Row covers or other lightweight covers may reduce feeding damage if they are placed before grasshoppers are already in the plants. Some people also use protective cages or netting around individual plants. While these methods are not always pretty, they can make a difference in a home garden where the goal is to protect a few important rows or plants.

Managing weedy areas may also help, especially earlier in the season. Roadsides, ditch banks, fence rows and unmowed grassy spots can serve as places where young grasshoppers develop. Keeping those areas under control may reduce some pressure, though it will not stop grasshoppers from moving in from neighboring properties. That is one of the challenges with an insect that can travel.

There are insecticides and baits labeled for grasshopper control, but they should be used carefully and according to the label. The right product depends on where it is being

used, whether it is a garden, landscape, pasture or crop setting, and what else is in the area. It is also important to consider pollinators, livestock, pets, water sources and harvest restrictions. When in doubt, Extension guidance is one of the best places to start.

It is also worth remembering that not every grasshopper problem requires the same response. A few grasshoppers in the yard are annoying. Heavy feeding in a garden may be worth addressing. Large numbers in a pasture or crop setting may require a more serious look, especially if forage is already limited.

Natural predators, including birds and some insects, do feed on grasshoppers, but they rarely eliminate a large outbreak on their own. Chickens may help around a yard or garden area, but they can also create their own kind of damage if turned loose in the wrong place. Like most things on the farm or around the house, there is usually a trade-off.

By late summer, grasshoppers may feel like just one more thing to deal with. The grass is tired, the garden is tired, the livestock are tired and most people are tired, too. Still, understanding why grasshoppers build, where they come from and when control works best can make them a little less mysterious.

They may always be part of an Oklahoma August, but they do not have to catch us completely off guard. Watch the field edges. Pay attention to young plants. Notice when small grasshoppers first begin to show up.

Because when grasshoppers take over, they rarely do it quietly.

By Ann Asher

The first time I saved seeds, it felt a little like cheating.

After spending all spring and summer buying plants, watering them, pulling weeds, and hoping they survived Oklahoma’s heat, it suddenly occurred to me that nature had already figured out how to do this long before seed catalogs showed up in my mailbox.

Every tomato, pepper, bean, and flower in my garden was trying to make next year’s garden all on its own.

Somewhere along the way, I had forgotten that.

Like many gardeners, I had always bought fresh seed packets every spring. There is certainly nothing wrong with that. Seed companies provide incredible varieties that have been bred for everything from disease resistance to better production. But once I began learning about saving seeds, I discovered there is something deeply satisfying about planting seeds that came from vegetables I grew myself.

It also turns out that not every seed is created equal.

One of the first things I learned was the difference between heirloom and hybrid varieties. The terms are often used interchangeably, but they really shouldn’t be.

Heirloom plants are open- pollinated varieties that have been passed from generation to generation, often for 50 years or more. Because they reproduce “true to type,” the seeds you save from a healthy heirloom tomato should produce plants very similar to the parent the following year, assuming they haven’t cross-pollinated with another variety.

Hybrid plants are different. They are intentionally created by crossing two carefully selected

parent plants to combine desirable traits, such as better disease resistance, higher yields, or improved vigor. Those qualities make hybrids wonderful garden plants, but the seeds they produce don’t reliably grow into the same plant the following season. You might get something similar, or you might get a surprise.

Neither one is better than the other. They’re simply different tools for different purposes.

As someone just learning, I quickly realized that seed saving is much easier than I expected.

Beans practically do all the work for you. Leave a few pods on the vine until they dry completely, shell them, and the seeds are ready to store. Peppers are almost as simple. Once the fruit is fully ripe, remove the seeds,

spread them out to dry for several days, and store them in a cool, dry place.

Tomatoes sounded intimidating until I actually tried it. The seeds are surrounded by a gelatinous coating that naturally prevents them from sprouting inside the fruit. Removing that coating usually involves letting the seeds ferment in a little water for a couple of days before rinsing and drying them. It sounds far more complicated than it really is, and once you’ve done it once, you’ll wonder why you waited so long.

Flowers have become one of my favorite places to experiment. Watching seed heads dry on coneflowers, zinnias, marigolds, and sunflowers makes me appreciate that every bloom

Perhaps the biggest surprise has been how seed saving has changed the way I look at gardening.

Instead of seeing the end of the growing season as the finish line, I now see it as the beginning of the next one. Every healthy plant becomes a potential source for next year’s garden. Every flower that goes to seed has a purpose. Even vegetables I once hurried to pull out suddenly have one last job to do.

Will I still order seeds every winter? Absolutely.

There are too many interesting varieties to stop exploring, and I’ll probably always have room in the garden for something new. But I’ll also be opening a small box filled with envelopes from this year’s harvest, each one carrying a little reminder that the garden isn’t just something we grow for a season.

Sometimes, if we let it, the garden grows itself right into the next year.

And I have to admit, there’s something pretty rewarding about that.

Seeds need to be fully mature before they’re collected. Dry seeds need to be completely dry before they’re stored. Otherwise, moisture becomes the enemy, encouraging mold and ruining months of work. A simple paper envelope labeled with the variety and the year often works better than an airtight plastic bag, especially until the seeds have thoroughly finished drying.

is already preparing for another season. Instead of cutting everything down the moment it finishes flowering, I’ve started paying attention to what comes afterward.

I’ve also learned that patience matters.

There are some birds you hear long before you see them. Others announce themselves with bright colors or a pretty song. Then there is the roadrunner, a bird most of us recognize from a quick glimpse across a county road, a flash of tail along a fence line or the unmistakable sight of a long-legged bird moving with purpose through the pasture.

The roadrunner also happens to be my mother’s favorite animal. No matter how many times she sees one, it never seems to get old. If one darts across the road or shows up along a fence line, she gets excited every time, as if it is some rare treat. I have come to understand why. There is something about a roadrunner that makes a person stop and pay attention. It is a little odd, a little comical and a whole lot tougher than its cartoon reputation ever gave it credit for.

The real bird is not just a desert runner with a famous call. It is a native predator, a skilled survivor and one of the more interesting birds found in Oklahoma.

The greater roadrunner, Geococcyx californianus, is a member of the cuckoo family, though it does not fit the delicate image many people may have of a cuckoo. This is a ground-dwelling bird built more for running than flying. It can fly when it needs to, but most of the time it would rather use its legs. Roadrunners have been reported running around 15 to 20 miles per hour, which is plenty fast enough to surprise a person when one darts across a road or disappears into brush.

In Oklahoma, roadrunners are most often associated with open country, grasslands, shrublands, fence rows, cedar breaks and pastures with enough cover to hunt and hide. They are more common in some parts of the state than others, but they are not limited to the desert image many people picture. A quiet gravel road, a brushy pasture edge or a sunny spot near a cedar thicket can all be good places to catch a glimpse of one.

At first glance, the roadrunner may look mostly brown and gray, but it is worth a closer look. Its mottled feathers help it blend into dry grass, brush and bare ground. The long tail is often held up or used like a rudder when the bird is running. The shaggy crest on its head gives it an alert, almost mischievous look. In the right light, its feathers can show more color and detail than a quick roadside sighting suggests.

One of the most distinctive things about a roadrunner is its feet. Like other members of the cuckoo family, roadrunners have zygodactyl feet, which means two toes point forward and two point backward. The track can look like an “X,” making it harder to tell which direction the bird was traveling. That unusual footprint has been part of Southwestern folklore for centuries, and it is easy to see why. Even its tracks seem to fit the bird’s mysterious, always-on-the-move personality.

While the cartoon version of the roadrunner made a living outsmarting coyotes, the real bird makes a living by hunting almost anything it can catch. Roadrunners are omnivores, but their diet is heavily made up of animal matter. They eat insects, grasshoppers, scorpions, centipedes, lizards, small snakes, small mammals, frogs, toads, eggs, young birds and carrion. They will also eat fruit and seeds, especially when animal prey is less available.

Their reputation for killing rattlesnakes is not just folklore. Roadrunners are known to take on venomous snakes, using speed, timing and repeated strikes to the head. They may also beat larger prey against the ground or a rock before swallowing it. As harsh as that sounds, it is part of what makes the roadrunner such an effective predator. This bird is not picky, and it is not easily intimidated.

That hunting ability can make roadrunners useful neighbors on farms, ranches and rural homesteads. They help control insects, rodents and reptiles, and they fill an important role in the food chain. Of course, they are not only predators. Roadrunners can also become prey for hawks, owls, raccoons, coyotes and other animals. The cartoon may have allowed the roadrunner to win every time, but in the real world, survival is never guaranteed.

Roadrunners have several adaptations that help them live in hot, dry country. Much of the water they need comes from the moisture in their prey. They also have ways to conserve energy and handle cool desert nights and chilly mornings. On cold nights, a roadrunner can lower its body temperature and become less active. In the morning, it may turn its back toward the sun and raise its feathers to expose a dark patch of skin that helps absorb heat. Anyone who has watched livestock, wildlife or even a barn cat find the first warm patch of sunshine can appreciate that strategy.

Their nesting habits are also interesting. Roadrunners often form long-term pairs, and both the male and female help with nesting and raising the young. Nests are usually built low in a tree, shrub, cactus or dense vegetation, often with sticks, twigs, grasses and other materials. The female typically lays several eggs, and both parents take part in incubation and feeding the chicks after they hatch.

Young roadrunners are not born ready to chase lizards across the pasture. Like many birds, they hatch helpless and depend on their parents for food and protection. After they leave the nest, they may continue to rely on the adults while learning to hunt. In a good year with plenty of food, roadrunners may raise more than one brood.

For all their toughness, roadrunners still depend on healthy habitat. Brushy cover, native grasses, insects, reptiles and small mammals all help support them. A perfectly manicured landscape does not offer much to a bird that hunts on the ground and needs places to hide, nest and ambush prey. On rural properties, leaving some natural cover, protecting native plant diversity and avoiding unnecessary pesticide use can benefit roadrunners and many other wildlife species.

Roadrunners are also a good reminder that Oklahoma wildlife does not have to be rare or dramatic to be remarkable. Some of the most interesting animals in the state are the ones we pass every day without thinking much about them. The bird that sprints across the road in front of the pickup is more than a familiar blur. It is a snake-hunting, sun-bathing, X-footed member of the cuckoo family that has figured out how to make a living in some unforgiving country.

Maybe that is why my mother loves them so much. A roadrunner sighting still feels like a small surprise, even in country where they belong. The greater roadrunner may not actually say “meep meep,” and it may not always outrun a coyote, but it has earned its reputation all the same. In Oklahoma, this long-tailed bird is part predator, part survivor and part roadside surprise, and that makes it worth watching for.