Wilburn Farm Grassland Restoration Hosts Birds, Butterflies and Nature Learning
Local writer Joseph R. Goodall volunteered for a native grassland restoration project being led by Birds Georgia at Wilburn Farm. Writing for the Arabia Alliance, Goodall gets personal about how the experience opened up his eyes.
Driving south from I-20 toward Wilburn Farm, I passed a mixture of gas stations, houses, office complexes and churches, a familiar blend of property types in the Atlanta Metro. The short, manicured lawns and faded asphalt parking lots were punctuated by swaths of oak and pine forest. Down a rural road, however, the sidewalks disappeared and the tree canopy gave way to a fenced field of tall grasses, waving under the intense, late-summer morning sun. The unruly vegetation bristled the underside of my car as I parked near a small group gathering beside a handsome, two-story farmhouse.
The historic Ragsdale House was moved to Wilburn Farm years ago. (Joseph R. Goodall)
To the typical suburbanite, this historic property within the Davidson-Arabia Mountain Nature Preserve was an overgrown eyesore in need of a civilizing mow. But on a tour led by Birds Georgia, held during the nonprofit’s annual Fall Flyway Festival to promote the native grassland restoration project at Wilburn Farm, I saw a “case study” for boosting biodiversity, creating habitats for threatened birds and butterflies, and providing hands-on environmental education that can be applied in any backyard.
Sebastian Hagan, a cheerful, bearded man in a wide-brimmed hat, introduced himself as our tour guide and Birds Georgia’s habitat program manager. We edged toward a patch of shade near the “Ragsdale” farmhouse, admiring its stone chimney, elevated front porch, and fresh coat of hunter-green paint. Originally constructed in 1862, the structure was restored in 2025 as a historic-led preservation effort by DeKalb County Parks and the Arabia Alliance after it was relocated from its nearby original homesite. Wilburn Farm, preserved from development by DeKalb County, presents an opportunity to both recognize the once-widespread practices of farming and reconsider the current “patchwork quilt” of ecosystems in our current urbanized landscape.
Sebastian Hagan of Birds Georgia with his coworker Tabby Spyrison in front of the recently restored historic Ragsdale House. (Joseph R. Goodall)
With a smile, Sebastian Hagan admired the summer growth across the shivering slope of purples, yellows and greens. Though concerned about Bermuda and bahiagrass aggressively taking over again, he was happy to see the progress since the project started last year, focused on a nineteen-acre, crescent-shaped “upper field” just north of DeKalb County’s Police Gun Range. Sure enough, strings of gunfire occasionally interrupted his presentation, as well as the drone of airplanes on their approach to Hartsfield-Jackson. Even still, my attention was drawn to the tiny bees buzzing between the bright golden flowers and swaying seed stalks. Thirty wooden nesting boxes have been installed across the site, and several autonomous recording units (ARUs) act as “visitor’s logs” for local and migrating birds.
“Grasses are community builders,” wrote biologist David George Haskell, who featured Birds Georgia’s habitat restoration work at nearby Panola Mountain State Park in his book How Flowers Made Our World. “They use cooperative partnerships to build their homes, places that, in turn, open possibilities for others.”
I soon saw this wasn’t an eyesore at all, but a kind of nature city, housing and feeding all forms of wildlife. It’s difficult for our urbanized sensibilities to appreciate the inner workings of a sun-drenched meadow filled with native, or locally-adapted, grasses. Unfortunately, it’s even harder to find one. Before European colonization and clearcutting for agriculture, nutrient-rich prairies were naturally-occurring through the Deep South, formed and sustained by forest fires, grazing by huge mammals, and later controlled burns by Native Americans. Worldwide, native grasslands are among the most threatened ecosystems, and according to the Southeast Grasslands Institute, over 90% of prairies and savannas in the southeast have disappeared. Now, it’s complicated to create and maintain grasslands within our fire-suppressed “city in the forest,” beyond bull-dozed hillsides, abandoned lots, and interstate medians. In these disrupted environments, introduced species often dominate, undeterred by local conditions and with little nutritional value or shelter to offer native wildlife.
Grasshoppers are one of many creatures who depend on meadows and grasslands. (Jospeh R. Goodall)
Birds Georgia is working state-wide to reverse this trend, expanding on their century of avian-advocacy to conserve and restore grasslands that support a diverse range of insects, birds and other animals most impacted by habitat loss. At sites like Wilburn Farm, this endeavor requires careful collaboration with private property owners, municipal, state and federal government agencies, volunteers, and grant-funding partners. To be sustainable, it also consists of training maintenance crews and teaching the community about the life cycle and ecological value of grasses. A small but nimble organization, Birds Georgia is now a sought-out land management partner, working in places like the Chattahoochee River National Recreation Area, Amerson River Park along the Ocmulgee in Macon, and dune restoration along Jekyll Island’s coast.
Hagan led us to a set of picnic tables sheltered below tree cover, overlooking an amphitheater of human-height grass islands separated by mowed paths. Several people on the tour identified areas where they’d removed privet shrubs or collected grass seeds on previous volunteer days. I scanned the edge of the tree line for the mountain azaleas I’d planted on a blustery morning last December. The first phase of Birds Georgia’s work, funded by a year-long grant from the National Fish and Wildlife Foundation (NFWF), involved inventorying existing plant species, spraying a specialized herbicide to kill aggressive, non-native grasses, installing over a thousand native plants, and collecting native plant seeds to be sowed in the future. Now, a two-year grant awarded to the Georgia Department of Natural Resources (DNR) is focused on supporting monarch butterfly and milkweed plant populations (the host plant for the monarch caterpillar) on 25 sites across the state, one of which is Wilburn Farm.
A giant tractor and tow-behind “bush hog” mower was parked nearby, bearing a DeKalb County logo. Robby Astrove, a County Park Ranger along for the tour, is in charge of maintaining the property, along with the entire 2,550-acre Davidson-Arabia Mountain Nature Preserve (DAMNP). With nearly fifteen years of work experience at DAMNP, Astrove was inspired by Birds Georgia’s work at Panola Mountain State Park and recruited them to identify a suitable County-owned site. Wilburn Farm’s cleared land and high-visibility were an ideal match. While it will be challenging to maintain the meadow at Wilburn Farm, Astrove sees this project as a “proof of concept” for community engagement and education, allowing people to learn about the life cycle and ecological value of grasses, to “feel the wind and shake the seed heads.”
After rolling our socks over our pant legs to guard against ticks, we followed Hagan’s lead into the blazing sunshine. Up close, we saw the clustered grasses and tall stalks formed a lattice of openings rather than a stifled mat. Small birds and rodents could carve paths along the ground, and insects could descend vertical stalks to avoid aerial predators. We ran our hands over the rough seed clusters crowning this airy, complex habitat. We understood why Hagan called the purple-top ones “grease grass” after feeling the oily texture on our fingers. He cut a light green, feathery stalk of dog fennel to demonstrate how dried grass stems are perfect overwinter nests for pollinators like carpenter and leaf-cutter bees.
Birds Georgia’s Hagan holds a stalk of dog fennel. (Joseph R. Goodall)
Grasses dry out in the winter, inviting fire to stimulate new spring growth. As an alternative to a controlled burn, the current maintenance plan involves mowing at the beginning of the year. This is also the time when the soil below can be gently raked and new grass seed sown.
Back in the shade, Hagan helped us envision the field as a waystation along a migration corridor. Millions of birds fly across Georgia every spring and fall, and the cross-continental journey of monarch butterflies cuts through the Atlanta Metro area. Increasing the “carrying capacity” of the landscape, from power line corridors to neighborhood beauty strips, can support the overall population of birds, monarchs, and other pollinating insects. The statewide project with Georgia DNR will grow over 28,000 milkweed plants, focusing on locally-suited varieties like swamp milkweed and butterflyweed. At Wilburn Farm, soil, sunlight and storm runoff conditions will be analyzed to determine the best milkweed species, then volunteers will plant patches where monarchs can lay their eggs and fuel up on nectar from other nearby flowers.
A milkweed seedpod broken open to reveal the fluffy seeds inside. (Joseph R. Goodall)
The monarch conservation grant also supports community engagement. Hagan and his coworkers are facilitating around thirty programs across the state through next year, giving Georgians ideas for making any landscape—no matter how small—a better habitat for pollinators (and other animals up the food chain). Beyond using a mixture of flowering native plants (the Georgia Native Plant Society is a good resource for finding local nurseries and plant sales), he suggested offering wind breaks (like shrubs surrounding a flower patch), a rock to serve as a sunlight basking station, and leaving expired flowers and seed heads until spring.
One woman in our group brought along a mesh carrier with a monarch butterfly that hatched in the plant nursery where she works. With permission, she released it onsite. We watched as the black and orange insect burst from the netting, immediately fluttering up into the trees. With autumn around the corner, we could only imagine where it would fly to next.
Arabia Alliance program manager Jennifer Dickie films the releasing of the monarch butterfly. (Joseph R. Goodall)
After the tour was over, I walked downhill along one of the mowed paths, trying to retrace my steps from the previous winter. At an outpost of scraggly trees, I reached past a joro spider web to loosen a ripe persimmon, its dark orange skin bruised brown and black. Past a dry creek bed that flows to the South River, I emerged on a granite rock outcrop, another piece of this land’s “patchwork quilt,” where I’d enjoyed a peaceful moment during my last visit. Now, it radiated heat, so I stuck by the edge, where beautyberry limbs ladened with tiny purple fruit clusters crisscrossed the forest fringe. I couldn’t help popping a handful in my mouth, grateful for the work of pollinators, sustained by a nearby meadow.
Joseph R. Goodall
