Chicago has a habit of importing life forms, both intentionally, and—most commonly—by accident. In recent years, I’ve seen the intentional import of rentable palm trees, often used to decorate such landmarks as the famous Water Tower, whole stretches of Oak Street Beach, and more than a few shopping malls, just west of the city’s official boundary. Though the city cannot lay claim to lampreys in Lake Michigan, it isn’t unusual to hear some half-whispered, wholly obscure reference to something monstrous in the water. Asian carp and zebra mussels also threaten the lake and various, filament-shaped waterways. Odd sorts of electric fences for fish have been proposed for a number of vulnerable waterways. (Zebra mussles aren’t that huge a problem, however; they’ve substantially cleaned the water of Lake Michigan, to the point that the actual water-flavored water caused many Chicago residents to complain that something contaminated was coming out of their water-taps. The biggest problem with zebra mussels is their habit of clogging things.) When one ventures beyond the watery regions of the local environment, one then encounters the most prodigiously terrifying of monsters to invade the area: the Asian Longhorn Beetle. These cute, and efficient lumberjacks are known to frighten Chicagoans as profoundly as the threat of fire. In true Chicago fashion, whole swaths of the city are defoliated in order to avoid the threat of defoliation in those areas. This makes sense, in an odd, sort of ham-handed way, as the Asian Longhorn beetles (well, their not-entirely-rotund larvae) enjoy the elm and maple salads growing along the city’s variegated streets and boulevards, avenues, and bike-paths. It would seem, however, that the city has developed a defense against invading vegetarians. I noticed evidence of this strategy today. In walking with Corey, along the North Branch of the Chicago River, I noticed the seed pods of two newly-introduced tree species. The Modelo Especial tree and the Corona Familiar trees (native to Mexico) are lovely, ornamental trees, known for their hardwood and their distinct seeds, and leaves that resemble ostrich plumes. The wood of each tree makes quite marvelous furniture, and the seeds, when mashed and fermented become the primary ingredient in something that gets you snockered. It hasn’t been until recently that I’ve seen any of these trees in person. These trees, I have learned, are also immune to the ravages of the Asian Longhorn beetle, though they also carry the singular species of mite responsible for bucolic plague. There are at least two such trees (one of each) somewhere close to Corey’s current place of residence. I didn’t notice any of their distinctive leaves, but the wind (or the river) left a deposit of their seed pods in a small dip, just at this year’s high water mark. The seeds, I suspect, will overwinter and begin germination in earnest next spring, once the seed pods rupture. I’ll have to return to that spot next year, to see what, if anything, has sprouted. In the meantime, here is an image of their seed-pods, waiting patiently for whatever fate befalls the pods of imported/non-native trees. * As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great week.