The Invading Clovers of the White River Valley

An interesting example of the operation of the law of natural selection is observable in the battle of the grasses that has been in progress in our fields ever since the civilized occupation of this country. Too wet to suit the boasted alfalfa of California, this country has been regarded as a natural home for the timothy or herd’s grass. It has been officially claimed that our alluvions will produce four or five tons of this hay per acre per annum. Consequently, it has been the favorite for seeding. The meadow, however, was mixed with other seeds, and the timothy had to fight a number of interlopers to maintain its possession of the soil. First, there were the indigenous ferns and plantain, and the ancient sheep sorrel. The regions of the Licking and Salt River sent their contribution of Kentucky blue grass. About the same time, New York became represented by the dandelion. Yet all these have disappeared. The tall timothy had shown it was more 'to the manor born.' But at last, that stately grass has more than met its match in the humble creeping white clover—the Shamrock of the Emerald Isle. This white clover is almost worthless for hay, as it is too light, lifting from the ground under the blade of the mower like a thin fleece of green wool, and is very difficult to cure. It makes, however, the finest pasturage, staying fresh and luxuriant under the cattle's feet nearly the year round. Fields that at first are nearly pure timothy, if pastured steadily, in a few years generally show only this close-textured turf of trefoil, and are valueless for hay crops unless broken up and re-seeded. Wherever our lands are depastured, we see this indomitable little agent of civilization spreading its way, promising in time to furnish range for the cattle upon a thousand hills of the rugged highlands of the Sound.