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Sam Rayburn Series on Rural Life, sponsored by Texas A&M University-Commerce
Prairie Time: A Blackland Portrait
In its most extensive prime, the Texas Blackland Prairie formed a twelve-million-acre grassy swath across the state from near San Antonio north to the Red River. Perhaps less than one tenth of one percent of this vast prairie remains—small patches tucked away here and there, once serving as hay meadows or sprouting from rock too stony to plow.
Matt White’s connections with both prairie plants and prairie people are evident in the stories of discovery and inspiration he tells as he tracks the ever dwindling parcels of tallgrass prairie in northeast Texas. In his search, he stumbles upon some unexpected fragments of virgin land, as well as some remarkable tales of both destruction and stewardship.
Helping us understand what a prairie is and how to appreciate its beauty and importance, White also increases our awareness of prairies, past and present, so that we might champion their survival in whatever small plots remain.
Matt White’s connections with both prairie plants and prairie people are evident in the stories of discovery and inspiration he tells as he tracks the ever dwindling parcels of tallgrass prairie in northeast Texas. In his search, he stumbles upon some unexpected fragments of virgin land, as well as some remarkable tales of both destruction and stewardship.
Helping us understand what a prairie is and how to appreciate its beauty and importance, White also increases our awareness of prairies, past and present, so that we might champion their survival in whatever small plots remain.
- GenresHistoryNonfictionEcology
272 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2006
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
November 30, 2021
When I saw that our naturalist book group was going to read a book about prairies in November and December of this year, I thought, Meh. I might skip that one, I thought.
I'm glad I didn't.
I live on a prairie, and I've always been sad I didn't live in an exciting place like a mountain or a forest or even a desert. But that was before I read this book.
Matt White's love for prairies is evident in this book, and, apparently, contagious.
I'm glad I didn't.
I live on a prairie, and I've always been sad I didn't live in an exciting place like a mountain or a forest or even a desert. But that was before I read this book.
Matt White's love for prairies is evident in this book, and, apparently, contagious.
July 8, 2020
I had a fun and relaxing time following him on his adventures to various prairie remnants throughout the text. White had such an infectious passion for the blackland prairie and its cultural value. Made me want to go hunt down hidden prairies myself! (Or better yet, have White take me on a tour of some!) Every time I set the book down, my imagination would sweep me away with romantic dreams of the Prairie Time of old. I also loved the little quotes at the beginnings of each chapter, usually documentation of the prairies from old firsthand sources, they let the book also serve as a point from which to find further literature on the coolest ecoregion ever. The thoroughness of White's investigation is admirable, I'm glad the prairie has him in its corner!
August 25, 2020
Phenomenal book--but of course, so sad--about the vanished prairies of north-east Texas. He goes in search of them and finds remnants of the unplowed land in railroad easements and sometimes in prairies preserved by the people who owned them. or by neglect.
When a virgin tallgrass prairie is plowed it never returns to its former plant communities. Or maybe never is too harsh a word...some restorations have come close to what we think may be the original state. Lacking fire and buffalo to regenerate the native plants, prairies were quickly grown up in cedar and scrubby hackberry or elm. I've seen that myself on the Corp of Engineers field that adjoins the Trinity River behind my house. The former owner of the nearby field kept the Corp. land mowed, but it hasn't been mowed in twenty years and the little trees are creeping in from all sides. It'll be a forest when we leave.
Our own pen area is suffering the same fate, but I'm determined to reverse it. Never, however, will I succeed in restoring it to the Blackland Prairie that it once was. We have only Johnsongrass, Bermuda and Dallis Grass imported from Asia and beyond. There are no coneflowers, sunflowers, or other native beauties to adorn the fields in summer.
The prairies he describes were dominated by Big and Little Bluestem, Indiangrass and Switchgrass. I suspect I've seen them all but I can't find them in my fields. But he writes this,
Perhaps, then,, there was something unique about our pioneer ancestors who refused to chop down every tree, who refused to plow under every blade of grass. What impulses motivated some people to preserve the world around them in an era when doing so was terribly out of fashion? What traits did they possess that caused them to see the world as something that could be used without being completely destroyed?
It's a question, and he still seeks to answer it. But it may be unanswerable.
When a virgin tallgrass prairie is plowed it never returns to its former plant communities. Or maybe never is too harsh a word...some restorations have come close to what we think may be the original state. Lacking fire and buffalo to regenerate the native plants, prairies were quickly grown up in cedar and scrubby hackberry or elm. I've seen that myself on the Corp of Engineers field that adjoins the Trinity River behind my house. The former owner of the nearby field kept the Corp. land mowed, but it hasn't been mowed in twenty years and the little trees are creeping in from all sides. It'll be a forest when we leave.
Our own pen area is suffering the same fate, but I'm determined to reverse it. Never, however, will I succeed in restoring it to the Blackland Prairie that it once was. We have only Johnsongrass, Bermuda and Dallis Grass imported from Asia and beyond. There are no coneflowers, sunflowers, or other native beauties to adorn the fields in summer.
The prairies he describes were dominated by Big and Little Bluestem, Indiangrass and Switchgrass. I suspect I've seen them all but I can't find them in my fields. But he writes this,
Perhaps, then,, there was something unique about our pioneer ancestors who refused to chop down every tree, who refused to plow under every blade of grass. What impulses motivated some people to preserve the world around them in an era when doing so was terribly out of fashion? What traits did they possess that caused them to see the world as something that could be used without being completely destroyed?
It's a question, and he still seeks to answer it. But it may be unanswerable.
June 21, 2022
A book about the Blackland Prairies of Texas could be scientific, historical, inspiring, or all three. This book is not a scientific look (only 4½ pages to discuss soil) and is not a history book (anecdotal inclusions is all). Rather it’s a collection of mostly the author’s first-person stories and experiences with prairies from a pure observational perspective. While somewhat educational and somewhat inspiring, in total it falls short of both; the reader is left with just the author’s memories, nothing more. While overall not a bad book, I’m not certain who this book is intended for other than lovers of brief memoirs and the author’s family.
June 19, 2025
A collection of essays about discovering prairie remnants in Texas. Not a scientific book (no citations despite many quotes and historical stories) and I will have to do some additional research to see and understand all the flowers and grasses mentioned. Overall, still an interesting read on prairie conservation in Texas.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews