Growing Points

“My bluegrass lawn is turning brown due to the hot, dry weather. Is it dead?”

Your bluegrass is probably not dead because it is one of the most resilient and adaptable types of lawn grasses we have, with a remarkable ability to survive adverse conditions. It is a cool season grass that grows best when temperatures are 60 to 75 degrees F. Once higher temperatures set in, bluegrass will go dormant but not necessarily die. The only thing that will keep bluegrass green during hot summers is frequent irrigation.

Due to the continuing drought and subsequent watering restrictions in Colorado, much research has been conducted to find out how well bluegrass can survive hot, dry conditions. According to Dr. Tony Koski, Turf Specialist for Colorado State University, brown spots in the water-restricted lawn are occasionally caused by billbugs and white grubs, but the grass is most likely responding to restricted watering or poor sprinkler coverage and is dormant. The other factor to consider is that the soil underneath your brown turf is likely compacted, inhibiting the ability for water to penetrate the soil and creating shallow roots on the grass.

Brent Meacham of the Northern Colorado Water Conservancy District in Loveland experimented extensively with allowing bluegrass to go dormant over the summer and (continued on top of right column of this section)

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then evaluated its ability to recover when cooler fall temperatures resumed. Last summer, he allowed bluegrass to go dormant after July 1. He added no additional irrigation with the exception of scant rainfall, until September 9th. He then resumed a normal irrigation and fall fertilized once grass had greened up. The grass survived the summer dormancy very well and was lush and green last fall. On a second plot, he allowed grass to go into a deep dormancy (no water last year from June 1 to September 9) and even this was not extremely detrimental. Although this second plot did not green up much last fall after irrigation, this spring Brent reported that it came back and greened up with about 90 percent coverage of the area.

Remember that just because bluegrass turns brown during hot weather, it does not mean it is dead. If the grass is managed properly and kept vigorous in its prime cool season growing period, it can survive extremely hot dry periods in dormancy with little negative effect. For a detailed fact sheet on “Summer Lawn Care in Colorado with Watering Restrictions” visit the website at the bottom of this article.

Why We Love Them (or think we do)

“Oh but I'd love for it to take over!” chirps the homeowner when I warn them about the enthusiasm of the voracious, desirable-plant-eating groundcover. They're imagining near instant gratification from a plant that will rapidly fill the space allotted to it and then stop, putting on a polite display of beauty. I'm sure they're not picturing the pretty but aggressive plant busting out of the plastic edging along the bed they've so lovingly prepared for it or squeezing out the other plants who live in the bed. At some point every gardener has to face it - some plants, though pretty, are rude members of the garden community; they have what therapists would call “boundary issues.”

Many of these thugs attract us with truly beautiful foliage or flowers. A good example is Lamb's Ears. Lauren Springer (author of The Undaunted Garden: Planting for Weather - Resilient Beauty and coauthor of Passionate Gardening: Good Advice for Challenging Climates) once mentioned that the planting of Lamb's Ears was a rite of passage for every gardener. Well I've got my patch of soft, fluffy leaves; do you have yours? If not, I can afford to give you some pieces from the pile I hack off every spring. The patch is on the hot, dry south side of my foundation where it cooks and gets little to no extra water from me, and it still thrives! Spreading even in winter! But I can't bear to take it all out. It keeps me humble and is a visual reminder to really think about it when considering a plant the catalog describes as “spreads readily.”

What They Do

Yes, invasive spreaders will quickly fill the area you've set aside for them, which is why so many of us express pleasure when told how aggressive some plants are. But they set their sights outside of their “pen” and quickly make tracks out into the irrigated lawn, either yours or the neighbors'- they're not picky. A terrific example is Aegopodium podagraria, called Bishop's Weed (and many other unprintable names) with good reason. In the past few years, I've noticed Aegopodium podagraria quietly taking over my neighborhood in an Invasion of the Body Snatchers style. When I see new starts popping up in yet another yard, I get chills. It attracts us with its pretty leaves, makes itself at home, and silently starts spreading. I started mine ten years ago this summer under an ash tree. As I planted, my neighbor warned “They're like weeds! They'll take over!” “Oh good!” I chirped and kept planting.

Last summer I finally finished killing the rampant patch with several doses of glyphosphate and had no remorse. It had no mannersand would not share the tree lawn with any other plants, muscling through the Basket of Gold and marching over the Creeping Potentilla. Around town, I've sometimes seen it fill its bed, penned in by concrete on all sides, and lean way over the edge, eyeing the lawn several feet away. I know it's planning to make the leap some moonless night. Yes, some aggressive groundcovers can be controlled by severely limiting or stopping irrigation - this isn't one of them.

       Noticing a plant you didn't plant in your bed (or lawn) one day is a sure sign you've inherited one of these rude guests - uninvited, in this case! Like a dandelion, it may look pretty and harmless, and you might be tempted to let it stay, but beware!!

What To Do When They Do What They Do

If you must grow one of these thugs, try giving it its own planting area with permanent, wide edging around the sides. If the plant has flowers (like Catmint or Lamb's Ears), try to deadhead the spent flowers quickly before the seeds have a chance to drop or blow around. Some plants that spread by roots can be sunk in a large pot and contained, but several have more than one way to spread and can easily advance both above and below ground at the same time. As I mentioned before, limiting or eliminating irrigation may help keep them under control too.

If you later decide you've made a mistake, it may take several seasons to completely remove the plant. Carefully applied broadleaf or nondiscriminate weed killer is your best bet (those cheap foam paint brushes are good for applying these in tight situations). And once you've eradicated the nuisance, you can feel wise with experience when you next overhear “Oh, but I want it to take over!” at the garden center.

Some Culprits

I've often toyed with the idea of putting these guys all in a well secured bed and letting them duke it out in a violent “Plantmania Caged Match.” It wouldn't be pretty, but my bet is the winner would be the Bishop's Weed. Some commonly planted thugs:

• Bishop's Weed (Aegopodium podagraria), spreads by roots
• Bugleweed, Carpet Bugleweed (Ajuga varieties), spreads by roots
• Catmint (Nepeta mussinii is the spreader; Nepeta faassenii is not invasive), spreads by seed
• Common Yarrow (Achillea millefolium ), spreads by roots and seed
• Lamb's Ears (Stachys byzantina), spreads by roots and seed
• Mints (plants with square shaped stems are members of the mint family and can usually be counted on to spread), spreads by roots
• Periwinkle (Vinca minor), spreads by roots
• Any plant described in a catalog as “reseeds readily,” “can become invasive,” “enthusiastic spreader,” “spreads vigorously,” etc.

Again this morning I was rudely awakened by a loud drumming on the metal chimney cap somewhere above my head. I slid out of bed, ran quickly to the fireplace, grabbed the poker, and gave a few sharp whacks on the inside metal lining. The sound ricocheted up the flue and I watched a large bird fly swiftly by the window.

The noisemaker was a Northern Flicker. Two species, or a hybrid mixture of the two, inhabit our front range area. The Yellow-shafted Flicker has a gray crown, brown throat and cheeks, and a black mustache. The Red-shafted Flicker sports a brown crown, gray throat and cheeks, and a red mustache. Both birds have a bright red crescent on the back of their heads. In flight the Yellow-shafted Flicker shows a yellow lining to its tail and wings, and the Red-shafted guy flashes a red lining. The hybrids offer a mix-match combo of markings. Flickers are handsome birds about twelve to fourteen inches long, with stiff tails, short legs, and chisel-like beaks. They have powerful claws allowing them to perch on the side of a house or tree.

Flickers love to hammer on metal chimney caps and flashings, shingles, gutters, television antennae, or anything that make a loud noise. Their favorite hours to drum are at dawn and dusk. This drumming is a “macho” thing and serves several purposes. In the early spring the males are trying to establish a territory and to attract a mate. They may also be checking out possible nesting sites and the presence of insects. The latter are usually found only on newer construction. This hammering usually subsides by July.

This early morning drum concert is annoying but when a flicker decides to establish a homestead on the side of your house, it becomes more serious. They have been known to excavate large holes in wood-siding and even in some stucco walls. When their damage takes this form, you must take action quickly.

Cover or fill all holes at once. Metal sheathing, or even tin can covers, depending on the size of the holes, can be used. Stain these covers to blend with the siding to be as inconspicuous as possible. Jerry Prisk, our local Colorado State University Cooperative Extension Wildlife Master, says to be persistent in all you do to discourage the birds as the birds are very persistent. They may come back and re-establish a territory when you think you have solved the problem or you have been away for a few days.

Jerry also says the birds do not like loud noises - other than of their own making. That explains my fireplace banging. It works far better than pitching tennis balls at “Woody” as I had been doing, although after a few days the sight of me would send him flying. I was getting pretty darn accurate and a friend suggested I try out for the Rockies. Often chimney caps can be filled with an expanding foam insulation to deaden the sound. Cap guns, pounding on pots and pans, and even screaming can discourage them as well. But what would the neighbors think?

Other suggestions are hanging small cosmetic/shaving mirrors near the damaged area with the enlarging side facing out of course.

Hanging large hawk silhouette mobiles, or even those large inflated 'eyeballs', from the eaves so as to move in the breezes can help. Strips of plastic or Mylar, aluminum foil pie pans on fishing line, or anything shiny that moves, are other possibilities. Netting can be stretched from the eaves and fastened at the ground, as is done on homes on golf courses, to deny the birds admittance to their excavations. The artificial owl statues soon loose their ability to frighten as the birds become used to their presence. Chemicals have not proven to be effective. The “sticky” repellents will often cause stains on siding.

Some people feel “If you can't beat them, join them” and will place special flicker sized nesting boxes near the damaged area. This will often prevent further excavations as the birds will protect their territory. These boxes should be twenty two to twenty six inches high with a two and a half inch diameter entrance hole near the top. Inside measurements should be at least six by six inches. Fill much of the interior with sawdust or wood chips. The flickers will remove some of this, but it will prevent the flicker's arch enemies, the starlings, from moving in and evicting them. The nesting boxes should be at least six feet off the ground.

Flickers are protected by the Federal Migratory Bird Treaty Act so you must secure a permit if you decide to do anything really drastic to remove them from your property. Permits may be secured from the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service-Migratory Bird Permit Office at (303) 236-8171. City and county ordinances should also be checked before anything lethal is attempted.

The flicker performs a useful service to the environment. Other cavity-nesting birds, and even small mammals, will often occupy their old cavities. Few other birds leave these ready-made homes available in the forest.

I will continue to try to chase off my drummer friend. Those very early morning staccato serenades are just not my thing. I do hope “Woody”, and maybe “Mrs. Woody” will remain in the area as it is fun to see them around. Hopefully one of my neighbors will tolerate waking to the beat of this avian drummer on his rooftop.

A long time ago, in a place far away from Colorado, Mother Nature provided plentiful rain and lawns grew lush and green. Grass was as common as house paint and not something to fuss about. Women planted petunias and marigolds. Men mowed the lawns.

On rare occasions when small patches of grass died, it was a simple matter to scratch the soil, scatter some grass seed, cover the patches with a bit of old burlap and water gently. In no time at all, bright new grass burst into the sunlight. Men whipped off the burlap as if brandishing magic cloaks. The new grass flourished and the inhabitants of this peaceful empire were content.

The Colorado portion of the galaxy is a harsher realm. My Hubby and I moved here twenty-two years ago and began learning about the woes and wonders of Colorado lawns. At first, it appeared that there was no need to fuss here either. Grass can be rolled out like a carpet. Naive city slicker that I am, I had never seen or heard of sod. Imagine my surprise when the sod truck rolled up to our new homestead and - POW! Instant lawn!

We followed the old country's customs. I planted flowers. Hubby mowed. But Mother Nature rules a different empire here. She employs battalions of storm troopers whose sole purpose is the torment of lawn owners. Over the years, hoards of horrible aliens invaded our grass. Hubby battled necrotic ring spot, clover mites, and leaf blight. Our once happy sod began to look a tad battle-scarred and so did Hubby. But he fought bravely on because our neighborhood covenants required lawns, and Hubby insisted that he liked mowing grass.

But I didn't get it. “Why fight this losing battle?” I asked, trying to sound sympathetic, but daydreaming about flower beds bursting with sturdy, dependable day-lilies.

“Think of each blade of grass as a tiny, defenseless plant,” Hubby said, appealing to my love of all things leafy. “They need us to nurture them.”

“Maybe I'm missing something, Hubby,” I said. “How about if I mow the lawn and give you a break? Maybe I'll learn something.”

Hubby smiled and my education commenced.

I learned that some idiot decided that a lawn mower doesn't need an easy on-off switch. It is better to start the mechanical beastie with a pull-cord, which usually takes eighty or ninety pulls and makes one want to kick the pull-cord inventor around the block.

Mowing made me sweat, breathe hard, and sneeze. The sweet smell of new-mown grass was lost in the gasoline haze of a roaring mower motor. I switched to an old fashioned, human-pushed mower to cut the back yard and discovered that the average lawn has more dips per square inch than a golf ball. My lawn's dips could stop a tank.

I got some great exercise that summer, and as cars passed, heads turned to see a red-faced woman huffing and puffing behind a lawn mower. I began to enjoy watching the mower devour the tops of each and every one of those tiny, defenseless leaves. Maybe the folks in those passing cars were staring at the maniacal grin on my face. But I couldn't stop sneezing and an allergy doctor finally rescued me. “You're allergic to every plant in the universe. Stop mowing. NOW!”

Hubby cheerfully resumed mowing duties. Then Mother Nature sent the ultimate invasion force against his feeble arsenal of sprinklers, fertilizers, and fungicides: DROUGHT. Rain went into hiding, the sun declared battle stations, and all those little defenseless grass plants surrendered unconditionally. Our lawn could now be described as an expanse of scrawny weeds and straw. Twenty-two years of nurturing was all for naught. I am now certain that growing grass in Colorado is like trying to grow a cactus on top of Mount Everest. Even Hubby seems a little war weary.

I noticed that the new neighbors across the street are struggling to keep their recently acquired lawn alive. They've been out there aerating and hand watering. The other day, he drove off in his pick-up truck and she fired up the lawn mower after enduring the requisite eighty or ninety cord-pulls.

“You go girl,” I thought. “I wish you luck. I'll be over here, crouched behind my juniper hedge, quietly planting day-lilies.”