The Creeping Fuchsia

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Meet Fuchsia procumbens aka the creeping Fuchsia. This lovely plant is endemic to New Zealand where, sadly, it is threatened. In its native habitat, it is strictly a coastal species, prefering to grow in sandy soils. The  flowers are quite unlike most other members of the genus Fuchshia and they exhibit an interesting flowering strategy. 

Fuchsia procumbens produces 3 distinct flower forms, flowers with only  working male parts, flowers with only working female parts, and hermaphroditic flowers. One reason for this is to avoid self-pollination. The other reason may have something to do with energy costs. When growing conditions are less than stellar, the plant saves energy by producing male flowers. 

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Pollen is relatively cheap after all. When conditions improve, the plant may allocate more resources to female and hermaphroditic flowers. This strategy worries some botanists because it seems like some populations of F. procumbens only ever produce single sex flowers. After pollination, the flowers give way to bright red berries that are larger than the flowers themselves!

The most interesting thing about this species is, despite its apparent specificity in habitat preferences in the wild, it competes well with aggressive grasses, which has made it a very popular ground cover. As it turns out, its growing popularity in the garden trade may save this species from being placed on the endangered species list.

Photo Credits: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1] [2]

The Smallest of the Giants

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There are a lot of cool ways to discover a new species but what about tripping over one? That is exactly how Rafflesia consueloae was found. Researchers from the University of the Philippines Los Baños were walking through the forest back in 2014 when one of them tripped over something. To their surprise, it was the bloom of a strange parasitic plant.

This was an exciting discovery because it meant that that strange family of holoparasitic plants called Rafflesiaceae just got a little bit bigger. Rafflesiaceae is famous the world over for the size of its flowers. Whereas the main body of plants in this family consists of tiny thread-like structures living within the tissues of forest vines, the flowers of many are huge. In fact, with a flower 3 feet (1 meter) in diameter, which can weigh as much as 24 lbs. (11 kg), Rafflesia arnoldii  produces the largest flower on the planet. This new species of Rafflesia, however, is a bit of a shrimp compared to its cousins.

In fact, R. consueloae produces the smallest flowers of the genus. Of the individuals that have been found, the largest flower clocked in at 3.83 inches (9.37 cm) in diameter. Needless to say, this was an exciting discovery and those responsible for it quickly set about observing the plant in detail. Cameras were set up to monitor flower development as well as to keep track of any animals that might pay it a visit. It turns out that, like its cousins, R. consueloae appears to be a specialist parasite on a group of vines in the genus Tetrastigma.

One of the unique characteristics of R. consueloae, other than its size, is the fact that its flowers don’t seem to produce any noticeable scent. This is a bit odd considering that its cousins are frequently referred to as “corpse flowers” thanks to the fact that they both look and smell like rotting meat. That is not to say that this species produces no scent at all. In fact, researchers noted that the fruits of R. consueloae smell a bit like coconut.

Its discoverers were quick to note that the discovery of such a strange parasitic plant in this particular stretch of forest is exciting because of the state of disrepair the forest is in. This region has suffered heavily from deforestation and fragmentation and it has long been thought that such specialized parasites like those in the genus Rafflesia could not persist after logging. As such, this discovery offers at least some hope that they may not be as sensitive as we once thought. Still, that does not mean that R. consueloae is by any means secure in its future.

To date, R. consueloae has only been found growing in two localities in Pantabangan, Phillippines. Though it is possible that more populations will be found growing elsewhere, its limited distribution nonetheless places it at high risk for extinction. Further habitat loss and the potential for anthropogenic forest fires are considerable threats to these plants and the hosts they simply can’t live without.

Despite plenty of observation, no one is quite sure how this species manages to reproduce successfully. Individual flowers are said to be either male or female but without a scent, its hard to say who or what pollinates them. Similarly, it still remains a mystery as to how R. consueloae (or any of its relatives for that matter) accomplish seed dispersal. Some small mammals were seen feeding on fruits but what happens after that is anyone’s guess. It seems like the various Rafflesiaceae still have many mysteries to be solved.

Photo Credit: [1]

Further Reading: [1]

 

Maxipiñon: One of the Rarest Pines in the World

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The maxipiñon (Pinus maximartinezii) is one of the rarest pines on Earth. A native of southern Sierra Madre Occidental, Mexico, nearly all individuals of this species can be found scattered over an area that collectively spans only about 3 to 6 square miles (5 – 10 km²) in size. Needless to say, the maxipiñon teeters on the brink of extinction. As a result, a lot of effort has been put forward to better understand this species and to develop plans aimed at ensuring it is not lost forever.

The maxipiñon has only been known to science for a few decades. It was described back in 1964 after botanist Jerzy Rzedowski noted some exceptionally large pine seeds for sale at a local market. He named the species in honor of Maximino Martínez, who contributed greatly to our understanding of Mexican conifers. However, it was very obvious that the maxipiñon was well known among the residents of Zacatecas.

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The reason for this are its seeds. The maxipiñon is said to produce the largest and most nutritious seeds of all the pines. As such, it is a staple of the regional diet. Conversations with local farmers suggest that it was much more common as recent as 60 years ago. Since then, its numbers have been greatly reduced. It soon became apparent that in order to save this species, we had to learn a lot more about what threatens its survival.

The most obvious place to start was recruitment. If any species is to survive, reproduction must outpace death. A survey of local markets revealed that a lot of maxipiñon seeds were being harvest from the wild. This would be fine if maxipiñon were widespread but this is not the case. Over-harvesting of seeds could spell disaster for a species with such small population sizes.

Indeed, surveys of wild maxipiñon revealed there to be only 2,000 to 2,500 mature individuals and almost no seedlings. However, mature trees do produce a considerable amount of cones. Therefore, the conclusion was made that seed harvesting may be the single largest threat to this tree. Subsequent research has suggested that seed harvests actually may not be the cause of its rarity. It turns out, maxipiñon population growth appears to be rather insensitive to the number of seeds produced each year. Instead, juvenile tree survival seems to form the biggest bottleneck to population growth.

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You see, this tree appears to be more limited by suitable germination sites than it does seed numbers. It doesn’t matter if thousands of seeds are produced if very few of them ever find a good spot to grow. Because of this, scientists feel that there are other more serious threats to the maxipiñon than seed harvesting. However, humans are still not off the hook. Other human activities proved to be far more damaging.

About 50 years ago, big changes were made to local farming practices. More and more land was being cleared for cattle grazing. Much of that clearing was done by purposefully setting fires. The bark of the maxipiñon is very thin, which makes it highly susceptible to fire. As fires burn through its habitat, many trees are killed. Those that survive must then contend with relentless overgrazing by cattle. If that wasn’t enough, the cleared land also becomes highly eroded, thus further reducing its suitability for maxipiñon regeneration. Taken together, these are the biggest threats to the ongoing survival of this pine. Its highly fragmented habitat no longer offers suitable sites for seedling growth and survival.

As with any species this rare, issues of genetic diversity also come into play. Though molecular analyses have shown that maxipiñon does not currently suffer from inbreeding, it has revealed some interesting data that give us hints into the deeper history of this species. Written in maxipiñon DNA is evidence of an extreme population bottleneck that occurred somewhere between 400 and 1000 years ago. It appears that this is not the first time this tree has undergone population decline.

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There are a few ways in which these data can be interpreted. One is that the maxipiñon evolved relatively recently from a small number of unique and isolated individuals. Perhaps a hybridization event occurred between two closely related piñon species - the weeping piñon (Pinus pinceana) and Nelson piñon (Pinus nelsonii). Another possibility, which does not rule out hybridization, is that the maxipiñon may actually be the result of artificial selection by agriculturists of the region. Considering the value of its seeds today, it is not hard to imagine farmers selecting and breeding piñon for larger seeds. It goes without saying that these claims are largely unsubstantiated and would require much more evidence to say with any certainty, however, there is plenty of evidence that civilizations like the Mayans were conserving and propagation useful tree species much earlier than this.

Despite all we have learned about the maxipiñon over the last few decades, the fate of this tree is far from secure. Ex situ conservation efforts are well underway and you can now see maxipiñon specimens growing in arboreta and botanical gardens around the world. Seeds from these populations are being used for storage and to propagate more trees. Sadly, until something is done to protect the habitat on which it relies, there is no telling how long this species will last in the wild. This is why habitat conservation efforts are so important. Please support local land conservation efforts in your area because the maxipiñon is but one species facing the loss of its habitat.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Further Reading [1] [2] [3]

The Creeping Strawberry Pine

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With its small, creeping habit and bright red, fleshy female cones, it is easy to see how Microcachrys tetragona earned its common name “creeping strawberry pine.” This miniature conifer is as adorable as it is interesting. With a fossil history that spans 66 million years of Earth’s history, it also has a lot to teach us about biogeography.

Today, the creeping strawberry pine can only be found growing naturally in western Tasmania. It is an alpine species, growing best in what is commonly referred to as alpine dwarf scrubland, above 1000 m (3280 ft) in elevation. Like the rest of the plants in such habitats, the creeping strawberry pine does not grow very tall at all. Instead, it creeps along the ground with its prostrate branches that barely extend more than 30 cm (0.9 ft) above the soil. This, of course, is likely an adaptation to its alpine environment. Plants that grow too tall frequently get knocked back by brutal winds and freezing temperatures among other things.

The typical growth habit of the creeping strawberry pine.

The typical growth habit of the creeping strawberry pine.

The creeping strawberry pine is not a member of the pine family (Pinaceae) but rather the podocarp family (Podocarpaceae). This family is interesting for a lot of reasons but one of the coolest is the fact that they are charismatic representatives of the so-called Antarctic flora. Along with a handful of other plant lineages, it is thought that Podocarpaceae arose during a time when most of the southern continents were combined into a supercontinent called Gondwana. Subsequent tectonic drift has seen the surviving members of this flora largely divided among the continents of the Southern Hemisphere. By combining current day distributions with fossil evidence, researchers are able to use families such as Podocarpaceae to tell a clearer picture of the history of life on Earth.

What is remarkable is that among the various podocarps, the genus Microcachrys produces pollen with a unique morphology. When researchers look at pollen under the microscope, whether extant or fossilized, they can say with certainty if it belongs to a Microcachrys or not. The picture we get from fossil evidence paints an interesting picture for Microcachrys diversity compared to what we see today. It turns out, Microcachrys endemic status is a more recent occurrence.

This distinctive, small, trisaccate pollen grain is typical of what you find with  Microcachrys  whereas all other podocarps produce bisaccate pollen.

This distinctive, small, trisaccate pollen grain is typical of what you find with Microcachrys whereas all other podocarps produce bisaccate pollen.

The creeping strawberry pine is what we call a peloendemic, meaning it belongs to a lineage that was once far more widespread but today exists in a relatively small geographic location. Fossilized pollen from Microcachrys has been found across the Southern Hemisphere, from South America, India, southern Africa, and even Antarctica. It would appear that as the continents continued to separate and environmental conditions changed, the mountains of Tasmania offered a final refuge for the sole remaining species in this lineage.

Another reason this tiny conifer is so charming are its fruit-like female cones. As they mature, the scales around the cone swell and become fleshy. Over time, they start to resemble a strawberry more than anything a gymnosperm would produce. This is yet another case of convergent evolution on a seed dispersal mechanism among a gymnosperm lineage. Birds are thought to be the main seed dispersers of the creeping strawberry pine and those bright red cones certainly have what it takes to catch the eye of a hungry bird. It must be working well for it too. Despite how narrow its range is from a global perspective, the creeping strawberry pine is said to be locally abundant and does not face the same conservation issues that many other members of its family currently face. Also, its unique appearance has made it something of a horticultural curiosity, especially among those who like to dabble in rock gardening.

Mature female cones look more like angiosperm fruit than a conifer cone.

Mature female cones look more like angiosperm fruit than a conifer cone.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3]

The Golden Fuchsia: A Case Study in Why Living Collections Matter

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The golden Fuchsia (Deppea splendens) is a real show stopper. It is impossible to miss this plant when it is in full bloom. Amazingly, if it were not for the actions of one person, this small tree may have disappeared without anyone ever knowing it existed in the first place. The golden Fuchsia is yet another plant that currently exists only in cultivation.

The story of the golden Fuchsia starts in the early 1970’s. During a trek through the mountains of southern Mexico, Dr. Dennis Breedlove, then the curator of botany for the California Academy of Sciences, stumbled across a peculiar looking shrub growing in a steep canyon. It stood out against the backdrop of Mexican oaks, pines, and magnolias. Standing at about 15 to 20 feet tall and adorned with brightly colored, pendulous inflorescences, it was clear that this species was something special indeed.

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A subsequent expedition to Chiapas in the early 1980’s was aimed at collecting seeds of this wonderful plant. It turned out to be relatively easy to germinate and grow, provided it didn’t experience any hard frost events. Plants were distributed among botanical gardens and nurseries and it appeared that the golden Fuchsia was quickly becoming something of a horticultural treasure. Despite all of the attention it was paid, the golden Fuchsia was only properly described in 1987.

Sadly, around the same time that botanists got around to formally naming the plant, tragedy struck. During yet another trip to Chiapas, Dr. Breedlove discovered that the cloud forest that once supported the only known population of golden Fuchsia had been clear cut for farming. Nothing remained but pasture grasses. No other wild populations of the golden Fuchsia have ever been found.

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If it was not for those original seed collections, this plant would have gone completely extinct. It owes its very existence to the botanical gardens and horticulturists that have propagated it over the last 30+ years. All of the plants you will encounter today are descendants of that original collection.

The role of ex situ living collections play in the conservation of species is invaluable. The golden Fuchsia is yet another stark reminder of this. If it were not for people like Dr. Breedlove and all of the others who have dedicated time and space to growing the golden Fuchsia, this species would have only been known as a curious herbarium specimen. The most alarming part about all of this is that as some botanical gardens continue to devalue living collections in favor of cheap landscaping and event hosting, living collections are getting pushed to the side, neglected, or even worse, destroyed. We must remember that living collections are a major piece of the conservation puzzle and their importance only grows as we lose more and more wild spaces to human expansion.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3]

Further Reading: [1] [2]

A New Species of Waterfall Specialist Has Been Discovered In Africa

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At first glance, this odd plant doesn’t look very special. However, it is the first new member of the family Podostemaceae to be found in Africa in over 30 years. It has been given the name Lebbiea grandiflora and it was discovered during a survey to assess the impacts of a proposed hydroelectric dam. By examining the specimen, Kew botanists quickly realized this plant was unique. Sadly, if all goes according to plan, this species may not be long for this world unless something is done to preserve it.

Members of the family Podostemaceae are strange plants. Despite how delicate they look, these plants specialize in growing submersed on rocks in waterfalls, rapids, and other fast flowing bodies of water. They are generally small plants, though some species can grow to lengths of 3 ft. (1 m) or more. The best generalization one can make about this group is that they like clean, fast-flowing water with plenty of available rock surfaces to grow on.

Lebbiea grandiflora certainly fits this description. It is native to a small portion of Sierra Leone and Guinea where it grows on slick rock surfaces only during the wet season. As the dry season approaches and the rivers shrink in size, L. grandiflora quickly sets seed and dies.

As mentioned, the area in which this plant was discovered is slated for the construction of a large hydroelectric dam. The building of this dam will most certainly destroy the entire population of this plant. As soon as water slows, becomes more turbid, and sediments build up, most Podostemaceae simply disappear. Unfortunately, I appears this plant was in trouble even before the dam came into the picture.

A. habit, whole plant, in fruit, showing the flat root, a pillar-like ‘haptera’, and a shoot with three inflorescences, B. detail of shoot with three branches, C. view of upper surface of a flattened root, with six short, erect shoots, each with 1–2 1-flowered inflorescences emerging from spathellum remains, D. side view of plant showing, on the lower surface of the flattened root, the pillar-like haptera, branched at base; upper surface of root with spathellum-sheathed inflorescence base, E. plant attached to rock by weft of thread-like root hairs (indicated with arrow) from base of pillar-like haptera; upper surface of flattened root with two shoots, F. side view of flower showing one of two tepals in full frontal view, G. as F. with tepal removed, exposing the gynoecium with, to left, the arched-over androecium, H. side view of flower with androecium in centre, two tepals flanking the gynoecium, I. androecium (leftmost of three anthers missing), J. transverse section of andropodium, K. view of gynoecium from above showing funneliform style-stigma base, L. fruit, dehisced, M. transverse section of bilocular fruit, showing septum and placentae, N. placentae with seeds, divided by septum, O. seeds, P. seed with mucilage outer layer. Drawn by Andrew Brown from  Lebbie  A2721  [SOURCE]

A. habit, whole plant, in fruit, showing the flat root, a pillar-like ‘haptera’, and a shoot with three inflorescences, B. detail of shoot with three branches, C. view of upper surface of a flattened root, with six short, erect shoots, each with 1–2 1-flowered inflorescences emerging from spathellum remains, D. side view of plant showing, on the lower surface of the flattened root, the pillar-like haptera, branched at base; upper surface of root with spathellum-sheathed inflorescence base, E. plant attached to rock by weft of thread-like root hairs (indicated with arrow) from base of pillar-like haptera; upper surface of flattened root with two shoots, F. side view of flower showing one of two tepals in full frontal view, G. as F. with tepal removed, exposing the gynoecium with, to left, the arched-over androecium, H. side view of flower with androecium in centre, two tepals flanking the gynoecium, I. androecium (leftmost of three anthers missing), J. transverse section of andropodium, K. view of gynoecium from above showing funneliform style-stigma base, L. fruit, dehisced, M. transverse section of bilocular fruit, showing septum and placentae, N. placentae with seeds, divided by septum, O. seeds, P. seed with mucilage outer layer. Drawn by Andrew Brown from Lebbie A2721 [SOURCE]

As mentioned, Podostemaceae need clean rock surfaces on which to germinate and grow. Without them, the seedlings simply can’t get established. Mining operations further upstream of the Sewa Rapids have been dumping mass quantities of sediment into the river for years. All of this sediment eventually makes it down into L. grandiflora territory and chokes out available germination sites.

Alarmed at the likely extinction of this new species, the Kew team wanted to try and find other populations of L. grandiflora. Amazingly, one other population was found growing in a river near Koukoutamba, Guinea. Sadly, the discovery of this additional population is bitter sweet as the World Bank is apparently backing another hydro-electric dam project on that river as well.

The only hope for the continuation of this species currently will be to (hopefully) find more populations and collect seed to establish ex situ populations both in other rivers as well as in captivity if possible. To date, no successful purposeful seeding of any Podostemaceae has been reported (if you know of any, please speak up!). Currently L. grandiflora has been given “Critically Endangered” status by the IUCN and the botanists responsible for its discovery hope that, coupled with the publication of this new species description, more can be done to protect this small rheophytic herb.

Photo Credit: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1]

On the Flora of Antarctica

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Antarctica - the frozen continent. It is hard to think of a place on Earth that is less hospitable to life. Yet life does exist here and some of it is botanical. Though few in number, Anarctica’s diminutive flora is able to eke out an existence wherever the right conditions present themselves. It goes without saying that these plants are some of the hardiest around.

It is strange to think of Antarctica as having any flora at all. How many descriptions of plant families and genera say something to the effect of “found on nearly every continent except for Antarctica.” It didn’t always used to be this way though. Antarctica was once home to a diverse floral assemblage that rivaled anything we see in the tropics today. Millions upon millions of years of continental drift has seen this once lush landmass positioned squarely at Earth’s southern pole.

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Situated that far south, Antarctica has long since become a frozen wasteland of sorts. The landscape is essentially a desert. Instead of no precipitation, however, most water in this neck of the woods is completely locked up in ice for most of the year. This is one reason why plants have had such a hard time making a living here. That is not to say that some plants haven’t made it. In fact, a handful of species thrive under these conditions.

When anyone goes looking for plants in Antarctica, they must do so wherever conditions ease up enough for part of the year to allow terrestrial life to exist. In the case of this frozen continent, this means hanging out along the coast or one of handful of islands situated just off of the mainland. Here, enough land thaws during the brief summer months to allow a few plant species to take root and grow.

Antarctic hair grass ( Deschamsia antarctica )

Antarctic hair grass (Deschamsia antarctica)

The flora of Antarctica proper consists of 2 flowering plant species, about 100 species of mosses, and roughly 30 species of liverwort. The largest of these are the flowering plants - a grass known as Antarctic hair grass (Deschamsia antarctica), and member of the pink family with a cushion-like growth habit called Antarctic pearlwort (Colobanthus quitensis). Whereas the hair grass benefits from being wind pollinated, the Antarctic pearlwort has had to get creative with its reproductive needs. Instead of relying on pollinators, which simply aren’t present in any abundance on Antarctica, it appears that the pearlwort has shifted over to being entirely self-pollinated. This seems to work for it because if the mother plant is capable of living on Antarctica, so too will its clonal offspring.

By far the dominant plant life on the continent are the mosses. With 100 species known to live on Antarctica, it is hard to make generalizations about their habits other than to say they are pretty tough plants. Most live out their lives among the saturated rocks of the intertidal zones. What we can say about these mosses is that they support a bewildering array of microbial life, from fungi and lichens to protists and tardigrades. Even in this frozen corner of the world, plants form the foundation for all other forms of life.

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Antarctic pearlwort ( Colobanthus quitensis )

Antarctic pearlwort (Colobanthus quitensis)

The coastal plant communities of Antarctica represent hotbeds of biodiversity for this depauperate continent. They reach their highest densities on the Antarctic Peninsula as well as on coastal islands such as south Orkney Islands and the South Shetland Islands. Here, conditions are just mild enough among the various rocky crevices for germination and growth to occur. Still, life on Antarctica is no cake walk. A short growing season, punishing waves, blistering winds, and trampling by penguins and seals present quite a challenge to Antarctica’s botanical denizens. They are able to live here despite these challenges.

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Still, humans take their toll. The Antarctic Peninsula is experiencing some of the most rapid warming on the planet over the last century. As this region grows warmer and drier each year, plants are responding accordingly. Antarctic mosses along the peninsula are increasingly showing signs of stress. They are starting to prioritize the production of protective pigments in their tissues over growth and reproduction. Moreover, new species of moss are starting to take over. Rapid warming and drying of the Antarctic Peninsula appears to be favoring species that are more desiccation tolerant at the expense of the continents endemic moss species.

Changes in the structure and composition of Antarctica’s moss beds is far from being a scientific curiosity for only bryologists to ponder. It is a symptom of greater changes to come.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3]

Meet the Crypts

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If you have ever spent time in an aquarium store, you have undoubtedly come across a Cryptocoryne or two. Indeed, these plants are most famous for their indispensable role in aquascaping freshwater aquaria. As organisms, however, crypts receive considerably less attention. Nonetheless, a handful of dedicated botanists have devoted time and effort to understanding this wonderful genus of tropical Aroids. What follows is a brief introduction to the world of Cryptocoryne plants. 

Cryptocoryne is a genus that currently consists of around 60 - 65 species, all of which are native to tropical regions of Asia and New Guinea. Every few years it seems at least one or two new species are added to this list and without a doubt, more species await discovery. All crypts are considered aquatic to one degree or another. Ecologically speaking, however, species fall into four broad categories based on the types of habitats they prefer.

Cryptocoryne cognata in situ .

Cryptocoryne cognata in situ.

The most familiar crypts grow along the banks of slow-moving rivers and streams and find themselves submerged for a large portion of their life. Others grow in seasonally flooded habitats and experience a pronounced dry season. These species usually go dormant until flood waters return. Still others can be found growing in swampy forested habitats, often in acidic peat swamps. Finally, a few crypts have adapted to living in tidal zones in both fresh and brackish waters.

Like all aquatic plants, crypts face a lot of challenges living in water. One of the biggest challenges is reproduction. Despite their aquatic nature, crypts will not flower successfully underwater. If growing submerged, most crypt species reproduce vegetatively via a creeping rhizome. As such, crypts often form large, clonal colonies in both the wild and in aquaria, a fact that has made a few crypts aggressive invaders in places like Florida.

Cryptocoryne wendtii  is one of the most common species in the aquarium trade. Its textured leaves are thought to have a higher surface area, allowing this plant to thrive in shaded aquatic habitats.

Cryptocoryne wendtii is one of the most common species in the aquarium trade. Its textured leaves are thought to have a higher surface area, allowing this plant to thrive in shaded aquatic habitats.

Given proper hydrologic cycles, however, crypts will flower and when they do, it is truly a sight to behold. As is typical of aroids, crypts produce an inflorescence comprised of a spadix with whirls of male and female flowers covered by a decorative sheath called a spathe. This spathe is the key to successful flowering among the various crypt species.

Species like  C. becketti  have become invasive in places like Florida, no doubt thanks to aquarium hobbyists.

Species like C. becketti have become invasive in places like Florida, no doubt thanks to aquarium hobbyists.

If the spathe were to open underwater, the inflorescence would quickly rot. Instead, most crypts seem to have an uncanny ability to sense water levels. At early stages of development, the spathe completely encloses the developing spadix in a water tight package. The tubular spathe continues to grow upward until the top has breached the surface. Consequently, the overall length of a crypt inflorescence is highly variable depending on the water level of its habitat. Crypts living in tidal zones take this a step further. Somehow they are able to time their flowering events to the ebb and flow of the tides, only producing flowers during periods of the month when tides are at their lowest.

Cryptocoryne ligua

Cryptocoryne ligua

With the tip of the inflorescence safely above water, the spathe will finally open revealing their surprisingly complex anatomy and coloration. It is a shame that most crypt growers never get to see such floral splendor in person. The spathe of many crypt species emit a faint but unpleasant odor. Additionally, some species adorn the spathe with fringes that, coupled with stark coloration, is thought to improve the chances of pollinator visitation.

Pollinators are poorly studied among crypts, however, it is thought that small flies take up the bulk of the work. Lured in by the promise of a rotting meal on which they can feed and lay their eggs, the flies become trapped inside the long tube of the spathe. Like the pitfall traps of a pitcher plant, the inner walls of the spathe are coated in a waxy substance that keeps the insects from crawling out before they do their job.

In general, the female flowers mature first. If the insect inside has visited a crypt of the same species the day before, it is likely carrying pollen and thus deposits said pollen onto the stigmas of the current crypt. After the female flowers have had a chance at being fertilized, the male flowers then mature. The insects inside are then dusted with new pollen, the walls of the spathe lose their slippery properties, and the insects are released in hopes of repeated the process again.

The fruit of a  Cryptocoryne  is called a syncarp.

The fruit of a Cryptocoryne is called a syncarp.

To the best of my knowledge, most crypts are not self-compatible. Instead, plants must receive pollen from unrelated individuals to set seed. Because large crypt colonies are often made up of clones of a single mother plant, sexual reproduction can be rather infrequent among the various species. Nonetheless sexual reproduction does occur and the seeds are produced in a different way than most other aroids. Instead of berries, crypts produce their seeds in a aggregated collection of fruits called a syncarp. When ripe, the syncarp opens like a little star and the seeds float away on the current.

One species, Cryptocoryne ciliata, takes seed production to a whole different level by producing viviparous seeds. Before the syncarp even opens, the seeds actually germinate on the mother plant. In this way, tiny seedlings complete with roots and leaves are released instead of seeds. Seedlings have a much greater surface area than seeds and readily get stuck in mud as well as other aquatic vegetation. In this way, C. ciliata offspring get a jump start on the establishment process. It is no wonder then that C. ciliata has one of the widest distributions of any of the crypt species.

Cryptocoryne ciliata

Cryptocoryne ciliata

Despite plenty of overlap among the ranges of various crypt species, the genus displays an amazing array of variation. Some have likened crypts to Araceae's version of Darwin's finches in that the unique ecology of each species appears to have created barriers to species introgression. Though hybrids do occur, each crypt seems to maintain its own niche via a unique habitat requirement, differing flower phenology, or a specific set of pollinators. It would appear that much can be learned about the mechanics of speciation by studying the various Cryptocoryne and their habits.

Unfortunately, the limited geographic distribution and specific habitat requirements of crypt species is cause for concern. Many are growing more and more rare as human settlements expand and destroy valuable crypt habitat. As popular as some crypts may be in cultivation, many others have proven too idiosyncratic to grow on a commercial level. More work is certainly needed to properly assess populations and bring plants into cultivation as a form of ex situ conservation.

Cryptocoryne cordata  Var. Siamensis 'Rosanervig' is a contoversial variety names recognized by the stark patterns of venation on its leaves.

Cryptocoryne cordata Var. Siamensis 'Rosanervig' is a contoversial variety names recognized by the stark patterns of venation on its leaves.

Proper study is further complicated by the fact that many crypt species are highly plastic. They have to be in order to survive the rigors of their aquatic environment. True species identification can really only be assessed when flowers are present and some populations seem to prefer vegetative over sexual reproduction a majority of the time. A multitude of subspecies exist, though the degree to which they should be formally recognized is up for debate.

I think it is safe to say that Cryptocoryne is a genus worth far more attention than it currently receives. They are without a doubt important components of the ecology of their native habitats and humans would do well to understand them a bit better. With a bit more attention from botanical gardens and other conservation organizations, perhaps the future for many crypts does not have to be so bleak.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

 

The Curious Case of the Yellowwood Tree

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The immense beauty and grace of the yellowwood (Cladrastis kentukea) is inversely proportional to its abundance. This unique legume is endemic to the eastern United States and enjoys a strangely patchy distribution. Its ability to perform well when planted far outside of its natural range only deepens the mystery of the yellowwood.

The natural range of the yellowwood leaves a lot of room for speculation. It hits its highest abundances in the Appalachian and Ozark highlands where it tends to grow on shaded slopes in calcareous soils. Scattered populations can be found as far west as Oklahoma and as far north as southern Indiana but nowhere is this tree considered a common component of the flora.

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Though the nature of its oddball distribution pattern is open for plenty of speculation, it is likely that its current status is the result of repeated glaciation events and a dash of stochasticity. The presence of multiple Cladrastis species in China and Japan and only one here in North America is a pattern shared by multiple taxa that once grew throughout each continent. A combination of geography, topography, and repeated glaciation events has since fragmented the ranges of many genera and perhaps Cladrastis is yet another example.

The fact that yellowwood seems to do quite well as a specimen tree well outside of its natural range says to me that this species was probably once far more wide spread in North America than it was today. It may have been pushed south by the ebb and flow of the Laurentide Ice Sheet and, due to the stochastic nuances of seed dispersal, never had a chance to recolonize the ground it had lost. Again, this is all open to speculation as this point.

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Despite being a member of the pea family, yellowwood is not a nitrogen fixer. It does not produce nodules on its roots that house rhizobium. As such, this species may be more restricted by soil type than other legumes. Perhaps its inability to fix nitrogen is part of the reason it tends to favor richer soils. It may also have played a part in its failure to recolonize land scraped clean by the glaciers.

Yellowwood's rarity in nature only makes finding this tree all the more special. It truly is a site to behold. It isn't a large tree by any standards but what it lacks in height it makes up for in looks. Its multi-branched trunk exhibits smooth, gray bark reminiscent of beech trees. Each limb is decked out in large, compound leaves that turn bright yellow in autumn.

When mature, which can take upwards of ten years, yellowwood produces copious amounts of pendulous inflorescences. Each inflorescence sports bright white flowers with a dash of yellow on the petals. It doesn't appear that any formal pollination work has been done on this tree but surely bees and butterflies alike visit the blooms. The name yellowwood comes from the yellow coloration of its heartwood, which has been used to make furniture and gunstocks in the past.

Whether growing in the forest or in your landscape, yellowwood is one of the more stunning trees you will find in eastern North America. Its peculiar natural history only lends to its allure.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Further Reading: [1] [2]

Saving One of North America's Rarest Shrubs

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The chance to save a species from certain extinction cannot be wasted. When the opportunity presents itself, I believe it is our duty to do so. Back in 2010, such an opportunity presented itself to the state of California and what follows is a heroic demonstration of the lengths dedicated individuals will go to protect biodiversity. Thought to be extinct for 60 years, the Franciscan manzanita (Arctostaphylos franciscana) has been given a second chance at life on this planet.

California is known the world over for its staggering biodiversity. Thanks to a multitude of factors that include wide variations in soil and climate types, California boasts an amazing variety of plant life. Some of the most Californian of these plants belong to a group of shrubs and trees collectively referred to as 'manzanitas.' These plants are members of the genus Arctostaphylos, which hails from the family Ericaceae, and sport wonderful red bark, small green leaves, and lovely bell-shaped flowers. Of the approximately 105 species, subspecies, and varieties of manzanita known to science, 95 of them can be found growing in California.

It has been suggested that manzanitas as a whole are a relatively recent taxon, having arisen sometime during the Middle Miocene. This fact complicates their taxonomy a bit because such a rapid radiation has led manzanita authorities to recognize a multitude of subspecies and varieties. In California, there are also many endemic species that owe their existence in part to the state's complicated geologic history. Some of these manzanitas are exceedingly rare, having only been found growing in one or a few locations. Sadly, untold species were probably lost as California was settled and human development cleared the land. 

Such was the case for the Franciscan manzanita. Its discovery dates back to the late 1800's. California botanist and manzanita expert, Alice Eastwood, originally collected this plant on serpentine soils around the San Francisco Bay Area. In the years following, the growing human population began putting lots of pressure on the surrounding landscape.

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Botanists like Eastwood recognized this and went to work doing what they could to save specimens from the onslaught of bulldozers. Luckily, the Franciscan manzanita was one such species. A few individuals were dug up, rooted, and their progeny were distributed to various botanical gardens. By the 1940's, the last known wild population of Franciscan manzanita were torn up and replaced by the unending tide of human expansion into the Bay Area.

It was apparent that the Franciscan manzanita was gone for good. Nothing was left of its original populations outside of botanical gardens. It was officially declared extinct in the wild. Decades went by without much thought for this plant outside of a few botanical circles. All of that changed in 2009.

It was in 2009 when a project began to replace a stretch of roadway called Doyle Drive. It was a massive project and a lot of effort was invested to remove the resident vegetation from the site before work could start in earnest. Native vegetation was salvaged to be used in restoration projects but most of the clearing involved the removal of aggressive roadside trees. A chipper was brought in to turn the trees into wood chips. Thanks to a bit of serendipity, a single area of vegetation bounded on all sides by busy highway was spared from wood chip piles. Apparently the only reason for this was because a patrol car had been parked there during the chipping operation.

Cleared of tall, weedy trees, this small island of vegetation had become visible by road for the first time in decades. That fall, a botanist by the name of Daniel Gluesenkamp was driving by the construction site when he noticed an odd looking shrub growing there. Luckily, he knew enough about manzanitas to know something was different about this shrub. Returning to the site with fellow botanists, Gluesenkamp and others confirmed that this odd shrubby manzanita was in fact the sole surviving wild Franciscan manzanita. Needless to say, this caused a bit of a stir among conservationists.

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The shrub had obviously been growing in that little island of serpentine soils for quite some time. The surrounding vegetation had effectively concealed its presence from the hustle and bustle of commuters that crisscross this section of on and off ramps every day. Oddly enough, this single plant likely owes its entire existence to the disturbance that created the highway in the first place. Manzanitas lay down a persistent seed bank year after year and those seeds can remain dormant until disturbance, usually fire but in this case road construction, awakens them from their slumber. It is likely that road crews had originally disturbed the serpentine soils just enough that this single Franciscan manzanita was able to germinate and survive.

The rediscovery of the last wild Franciscan manzanita was bitter sweet. On the one hand, a species thought extinct for 60 years had been rediscovered. On the other hand, this single individual was extremely stressed by years of noxious car exhaust and now, the sudden influx of sunlight due to the removal of the trees that once sheltered it. What's more, this small island of vegetation was doomed to destruction due to current highway construction. It quickly became apparent that if this plant had any chance of survival, something drastic had to be done.

Many possible rescue scenarios were considered, from cloning the plant to moving bits of it into botanical gardens. In the end, the most heroic option was decided on - this single Franciscan manzanita was going to be relocated to a managed natural area with a similar soil composition and microclimate.

Moving an established shrub is not easy, especially when that particular individual is already stressed to the max. As such, numerous safeguards were enacted to preserve the genetic legacy of this remaining wild individual just in case it did not survive the ordeal. Stem cuttings were taken so that they could be rooted and cloned in a lab. Rooted branches were cut and taken to greenhouses to be grown up to self-sustaining individuals. Numerous seeds were collected from the surprising amount of ripe fruits present on the shrub that year. Finally, soil containing years of this Franciscan manzanita's seedbank as well as the microbial community associated with the roots, were collected and stored to help in future reintroduction efforts.

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Finally, the day came when the plant was to be dug up and moved. Trenches were dug around the root mass and a dozen metal pipes were driven into the soil 2 feet below the plant so that the shrub could safely be separated from the soil in which it had been growing all its life. These pipes were then bolted to I-beams and a crane was used to hoist the manzanita up and out of the precarious spot that nurtured it in secret for all those years.

Upon arriving at its new home, experts left nothing to chance. The shrub was monitored daily for the first ten days of its arrival followed by continued weekly visits after that. As anyone that gardens knows, new plantings must be babied a bit before they become established.  For over a year, this single shrub was sheltered from direct sun, pruned of any dead and sickly branches, and carefully weeded to minimize competition. Amazingly, thanks to the coordinated effort of conservationists, the state of California, and road crews, this single individual lives on in the wild.

Of course, one single individual is not enough to save this species from extinction. At current, cuttings, and seeds provide a great starting place for further reintroduction efforts. Similarly, and most importantly, a bit of foresight on the part of a handful of dedicated botanists nearly a century ago means that the presence of several unique genetic lines of this species living in botanical gardens means that at least some genetic variability can be introduced into the restoration efforts of the Franciscan manzanita.

In an ideal world, conservation would never have to start with a single remaining individual. As we all know, however, this is not an ideal world. Still, this story provides us with inspiration and a sense of hope that if we can work together, amazing things can be done to preserve and restore at least some of what has been lost. The Franciscan manzanita is but one species that desperately needs our help an attention. It is a poignant reminder to never give up and to keep working hard on protecting and restoring biodiversity.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3] [4]

 

An Endangered Iris With An Intriguing Pollination Syndrome

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The Golan iris (Iris hermona) is a member of the Oncocyclus section, an elite group of 32 Iris species native to the Fertile Crescent region of southwestern Asia. They are some of the showiest irises on the planet. Sadly, like many others in this section, the Golan iris is in real danger of going extinct.

The Golan iris has a rather limited distribution. Despite being named in honor of Mt. Hermon, it is restricted to the Golan Heights region of northern Israel and southwestern Syria. Part of the confusion stems from the fact that the Golan iris has suffered from a bit of taxonomic uncertainty ever since it was discovered. It is similar in appearance to both I. westii and I. bismarckiana with which it is frequently confused. In fact, some authors still consider I. hermona to be a variety of I. bismarckiana. This has led to some serious issues when trying to assess population numbers. Despite the confusion, there are some important anatomical differences between these plants, including the morphology of their rhizomes and the development of their leaves. Regardless, if these plants are in fact different species, it means their respective numbers in the wild decrease dramatically. 

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Like other members of the Oncocyclus group, the Golan iris exhibits an intriguing pollination syndrome with a group of bees in the genus Eucera. Their large, showy flowers may look like a boon for pollinators, however, close observation tells a different story. The Golan iris and its relatives receive surprisingly little attention from most of the potential pollinators in this region.

One reason for their lack of popularity has to do with the rewards (or lack thereof) they offer potential visitors. These irises produce no nectar and very little pollen. Because of this and their showy appearance, most pollinators quickly learn that these plants are not worth the effort. Instead, the only insects that ever pay these large blossoms any attention are male Eucerine bees. These bees aren't looking for food or fragrance, however. Instead, they are looking for a place to rest. 

A Eucerine bee visiting a nectar source. 

A Eucerine bee visiting a nectar source. 

The Oncocyclus irises cannot self pollinate, which makes studying potential pollinators a bit easier. During a 5 year period, researchers noted that male Eucerine bees were the only insects that regularly visited the flowers and only after their visits did the plants set seed. The bees would arrive at the flowers around dusk and poke around until they found one to their liking. At that point they would crawl down into the floral tube and would not leave again until morning. The anatomy of the flower is such that the bees inevitably contact stamen and stigma in the process. Their resting behavior is repeated night after night until the end of the flowering season and in this way pollination is achieved. Researchers now believe that the Golan iris and its relatives are pollinated solely by these sleeping male bees.

Sadly, the status of the Golan iris is rather bleak. As recent as the year 2000, there were an estimated 2,000 Golan irises in the wild. Today that number has been reduced to a meager 350 individuals. Though there is no single smoking gun to explain this precipitous decline, climate change, cattle grazing, poaching, and military activity have exacted a serious toll on this species. Plants are especially vulnerable during drought years. Individuals stressed by the lack of water succumb to increased pressure from insects and other pests. Vineyards have seen an uptick in Golan in recent years as well, gobbling up viable habitat in the process.

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It is extremely tragic to note that some of the largest remaining populations of Golan irises can be found growing in active mine fields. It would seem that one of the only safe places for these endangered plants to grow are places that are extremely lethal to humans. It would seem that our propensity for violent tribalism has unwittingly led to the preservation of this species for the time being.

At the very least, some work is being done not only to understand what these plants need in order to germinate and survive, but also assess the viability of relocated plants that are threatened by human development. Attempts at transplanting individuals in the past have been met with limited success but thankfully the Oncocyclus irises have caught the eye of bulb growers around the world. By sharing information on the needs of these plants in cultivation, growers can help expand on efforts to save species like the Golan iris.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4]

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3] [4]

 

Saving Bornean Peatlands is a Must For Conservation

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The leading cause of extinction on this planet is loss of habitat. As an ecologist, it pains me to see how frequently this gets ignored. Plants, animals, fungi - literally every organism on this planet needs a place to live. Without habitat, we are forced to pack our flora and fauna into tiny collections in zoos and botanical gardens, completely disembodied from the environment that shaped them into what we know and love today. That’s not to say that zoos and botanical gardens don’t play critically important roles in conservation, however, if we are going to stave off total ecological meltdown, we must also be setting aside swaths of land.

There is no way around it. We cannot have our cake and eat it too. Land conservation must be a priority both at the local and the global scale. Wild spaces support life. They buffer it from storms and minimize the impacts of deadly diseases. Healthy habitats filter the water we drink and, for many people around the globe, provide much of the food we eat. Every one of us can think back to our childhood and remember a favorite stretch of stream, meadow, or forest that has since been gobbled up by a housing development. For me it was a forested stream where I learned to love the natural world. I would spend hours playing in the creek, climbing trees, and capturing bugs to show my parents. Since that time, someone leveled the forest, built a house, and planted a lawn. With that patch of forest went all of the insects, birds, and wildflowers it once supported.

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Scenarios like this play out all too often and sadly on a much larger scale than a backyard. Globally, forests have felt taken the brunt of human development. Though it is hard to get a sense of the scope of deforestation on a global scale, the undisputed leaders in deforestation are Brazil and Indonesia. Though the Amazon gets a lot of press, few may truly grasp the gravity of the situation playing out in Southeast Asia.

Deforestation is a clear and present threat throughout tropical Asia. This region is growing both in its economy and population by about 6% every year and this growth has come at great cost to the environment. Indonesia (alongside Brazil) accounts for 55% of the world’s deforestation rates. This is a gut-wrenching statistic because Indonesia alone is home to the most extensive area of intact rainforest in all of Asia. So far, nearly a quarter of Indonesia’s forests have been cleared. It was estimated that by 2010, 2.3 million hectares of peatland forests had been felled and this number shows little signs of slowing. Experts believe that if these rates continue, this area could lose the remainder of its forests by 2056.

Consider the fact that Southeast Asia contains 6 of the world’s 25 biodiversity hotspots and you can begin to imagine the devastating blow that the levelling of these forests can have. Much of this deforestation is done in the name of agriculture, and of that, palm oil and rubber take the cake. Southeast Asia is responsible for 86% of the world’s palm oil and 87% of the world’s natural rubber. What’s more, the companies responsible for these plantations are ranked among some of the least sustainable in the world.

Palm oil plantations where there once was rainforest. 

Palm oil plantations where there once was rainforest. 

Borneo is home to a bewildering array of life. Researchers working there are constantly finding and describing new species, many of which are found nowhere else in the world. Of the roughly 15,000 plant species known from Borneo, botanists estimate that nearly 5,000 (~34%) of them are endemic. This includes some of the more charismatic plant species such as the beloved carnivorous pitcher plants in the genus Nepenthes. Of these, 50 species have been found growing in Borneo, many of which are only known from single mountain tops.

It has been said that nowhere else in the world has the diversity of orchid species found in Borneo. To date, roughly 3,000 species have been described but many, many more await discovery. For example, since 2007, 51 new species of orchid have been found. Borneo is also home to the largest flower in the world, Rafflesia arnoldii. It, along with its relatives, are parasites, living their entire lives inside of tropical vines. These amazing plants only ever emerge when it is time to flower and flower they do! Their superficial resemblance to a rotting carcass goes much deeper than looks alone. These flowers emit a fetid odor that is proportional to their size, earning them the name “carrion flowers.”

Rafflesia arnoldii  in all of its glory.

Rafflesia arnoldii in all of its glory.

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If deforestation wasn’t enough of a threat to these botanical treasures, poachers are having considerable impacts on Bornean botany. The illegal wildlife trade throughout southeast Asia gets a lot of media attention and rightfully so. At the same time, however, the illegal trade of ornamental and medicinal plants has gone largely unnoticed. Much of this is fueled by demands in China and Vietnam for plants considered medicinally valuable. At this point in time, we simply don’t know the extent to which poaching is harming plant populations. One survey found 347 different orchid species were being traded illegally across borders, many of which were considered threatened or endangered. Ever-shrinking forested areas only exacerbate the issue of plant poaching. It is the law of diminishing returns time and time again.

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But to lump all Bornean forests under the general label of “rainforest” is a bit misleading. Borneo has multitude of forest types and one of the most globally important of these are the peatland forests. Peatlands are vital areas of carbon storage for this planet because they are the result of a lack of decay. Whereas leaves and twigs quickly breakdown in most rainforest situations, plant debris never quite makes it that far in a peatland. Plant materials that fall into a peatland stick around and build up over hundreds and thousands of years. As such, an extremely thick layer of peat is formed. In some areas, this layer can be as much as 20 meters deep! All the carbon tied up in the undecayed plant matter is carbon that isn’t finding its way back into our atmosphere.

Sadly, tropical peatlands like those found in Borneo are facing a multitude of threats. In Indonesia alone, draining, burning, and farming (especially for palm oil) have led to the destruction of 1 million hectares (20%) of peatland habitat in only one decade. The fires themselves are especially worrisome. For instance, it was estimated that fires set between 1997-1998 and 2002-2003 in order to clear the land for palm oil plantations released 200 million to 1 billion tonnes of carbon into our atmosphere. Considering that 60% of the world’s tropical peatlands are found in the Indo-Malayan region, these numbers are troubling.

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The peatlands of Borneo are totally unlike peatlands elsewhere in the world. Instead of mosses, gramminoids, and shrubs, these tropical peatlands are covered in forests. Massive dipterocarp trees dominate the landscape, growing on a spongey mat of peat. What’s more, no water flows into these habitats. They are fed entirely by rain. The spongey nature of the peat mat holds onto water well into the dry season, providing clean, filtered water where it otherwise wouldn’t be available.

This lack of decay coupled with their extremely acidic nature and near complete saturation makes peat lands difficult places for survival. Still, life has found a way, and Borneo’s peatlands are home to a staggering diversity of plant life. They are so diverse, in fact, that when I asked Dr. Craig Costion, a plant conservation officer for the Rainforest Trust, for something approaching a plant list for an area of peatland known as Rungan River region, he replied:

“Certainly not nor would there ever be one in the conceivable future given the sheer size of the property and the level of diversity in Borneo. There can be as many as a 100 species per acre of trees in Borneo... Certainly a high percentage of the species would only be able to be assigned to a genus then sit in an herbarium for decades until someone describes them.”

And that is quite remarkable when you think about it. When you consider that the Rungan River property is approximately 385,000 acres, the number of plant species to consider quickly becomes overwhelming. To put that in perspective, there are only about 500 tree species native to the whole of Europe! And that’s just considering the trees. Borneo’s peatlands are home to myriad plant species from liverworts, mosses, and ferns, to countless flowering plants like orchids and others. We simply do not know what kind of diversity places like Borneo hold. One could easily spend a week in a place like the Rungan River and walk away with dozens of plant species completely new to science. Losing a tract of forest in such a biodiverse is a huge blow to global biodiversity.

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Nepenthes ampullaria  relies on decaying plant material within its pitcher for its nutrient needs.

Nepenthes ampullaria relies on decaying plant material within its pitcher for its nutrient needs.

Also, consider that all this plant diversity is supporting even more animal diversity. For instance, the high diversity of fruit trees in this region support a population of over 2,000 Bornean orangutans. That is nearly 4% of the entire global population of these great apes! They aren’t alone either, the forested peatlands of Borneo are home to species such as the critically endangered Bornean white-bearded gibbon, the proboscis monkey, the rare flat-headed cat, and the oddly named otter civet. All these animals and more rely on the habitat provided by these forests. Without forests, these animals are no more.

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The flat-headed cat, an endemic of Borneo. 

The flat-headed cat, an endemic of Borneo. 

At this point, many of you may be feeling quite depressed. I know how easy it is to feel like there is nothing you can do to help. Well, what if I told you that there is something you can do right now to save a 385,000 acre chunk of peatland rainforest? That’s right, by heading over to the Rainforest Trust’s website (https://www.rainforesttrust.org/project/saving-stronghold-critically-endangered-bornean-orangutan/) you can donate to their campaign to buy up and protect the Rungan River forest tract.

Click on the logo to learn more!

Click on the logo to learn more!

By donating to the Rainforest Trust, you are doing your part in protecting biodiversity in one of the most biodiverse regions in the world. What’s more, you can rest assured that your money is being used effectively. The Rainforest Trust consistently ranks as one of the top environmental protection charities in the world. Over their nearly three decades of operation, the Rainforest Trust has protected more than 15.7 million acres of land in over 20 countries. Like I said in the beginning, habitat loss is the leading cause of extinction on this planet. Without habitat, we have nothing. Plants are that habitat and by supporting organizations such as the Rainforest Trust, you are doing your part to fight the biggest threats our planet faces. 

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

The Traveler's Palm

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This nifty looking tree is commonly referred to as the traveler's palm (Ravenala madagascariensis). In reality, it is not a palm at all but rather a close cousin of the bird of paradise plants (Strelitziaceae). It is endemic to Madagascar and the only member of its genus. Even more fascinating is its relationship with another uniquely Madagascan group - the lemurs. But first we must ask, what's in a name?

The name "traveler's palm" has two likely explanations. The first has to do with the orientation of that giant fan of leaves. The tree is said to align its photosynthetic fan in an east-west orientation, which can serve as a crude compass, allowing weary travelers to orient themselves. I found no data to support this. The other possibility comes from the fact that this tree collects a lot of water in its nooks and crannies. Each of its hollow leaf bases can hold upwards of a quart of rain water! Get to it quick, though, because these water stores soon stagnate.

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Flowers are produced between the axils of the leaves and closely resemble those of its bird of paradise cousins. Closer observation will reveal that they are nonetheless unique. For starters, they are large and contained within stout green bracts. Also, they are considerably less showy than the rest of the family. They don't produce any strong odors but they do fill up with copious amounts of sucrose-rich nectar. Finally, the flowers remain closed, even when mature and are amazingly sturdy structures. It may seem odd for a plant to guard its flowers so tightly until you consider how they are pollinated.

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It seems fitting that an endemic plant like the traveler's palm would enter into a pollination syndrome with another group of Madagascar endemics. As it turns out, lemurs seem to be the preferred pollinators of this species. Though black lemurs, white fronted lemurs, and greater dwarf lemurs have been recorded visiting these blooms, it appears that the black-and-white ruffed lemur manages a bulk of the pollination services for this plant.

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Watching the lemurs feed, one quickly understands why the flowers are so stout. Lemurs force open the blooms to get at the nectar inside. The long muzzles of the black-and-white ruffed lemur seem especially suited for accessing the energy-rich nectar within. The flowers themselves seem primed for such activity as well. The enclosed anthers are held under great tension. When a lemur pries apart the petals, the anthers spring forward and dust its muzzle with pollen. Using both its hands and feet, the lemur must wedge its face down into the nectar chamber in order to take a sip. In doing so, it inevitably comes into contact with the stigma. Thus, pollination is achieved. Once fertilized, the traveler's palm produces seeds that are covered in beautiful blue arils.

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All in all, this is one unique plant. Though its not the only plant to utilize lemurs as pollinators, it is nonetheless one of the more remarkable examples. Its stunning appearance has made it into something of a horticultural celebrity and one can usually find the traveler's palm growing in larger botanical gardens around the world. Though the traveler's palm itself is not endangered, its lemur pollinators certainly are. As I have said time and again, plants do not operate in a vacuum. To save a species, one must consider the entirety of its habitat. This is why land conservation is so vitally important. Support a land conservancy today!

Photo Credits: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3]

 

The Grasstree of Southwestern Australia

Southwestern Australia is home to one of the world's most unique floras. A combination of highly diverse, nutrient-poor soil types, bush fires, and lots of time have led to amazing adaptive radiations, the result of which are myriad plant species found nowhere else in the world. One of the most unique members of southwestern Australia's flora is the grassplant (Kingia australis). Like all plants of this region, it is one hardy species.

The taxonomic history of the grassplant has been a bit muddled. As its common name suggests, it was once thought to be a member of the genus Xanthorrhoea, however, its resemblance to this group is entirely superficial. It has since been placed in the family Dasypogonaceae. Along with three other genera, this entire family is endemic to Australia. Growing in southwestern Australia presents lots of challenges such as obtaining enough water and nutrients to survive and for the grassplant, these were overcome in some fascinating ways.

The way in which the grassplant manages this is quite incredible. Its trunk is not really a true trunk but rather a dense cluster of old leaf bases. Within this pseudotrunk, the grassplant grows a series of fine roots. Research has shown this to be an adaptation to life in a harsh climate. Because water can be scarce and nutrients are in short supply, the grassplant doesn't take any chances. Water hitting the trunk is rapidly absorbed by these roots as are any nutrients that come in the form of things like bird droppings.

Coupled with its underground roots, the grassplant is able to eek out a living. That being said, its life is spent in the slow lane. Plants are very slow growing and estimates place some of the larger individuals at over 600 years in age. Its amazing how some of the harshest environments can produce some of the longest lived organisms.

As you can probably imagine, reproduction in this species can also be a bit of a challenge. Every so often, flower clusters are produced atop long, curved stems. Their production is stimulated by fire but even then, with nutrients in poor supply, it is not a frequent event. Some plants have been growing for over 200 years without ever producing flowers. This lifestyle makes the grassplant sensitive to disturbance. Recruitment is limited, even in good flowering years and plants take a long time to mature. That is why conservation of their habitat is of utmost importance.

Photo Credits: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1] [2]

Begonia's Hawaiian Cousin

Begoniaceae is a strange family. It consists of two genera - Begonia, which comprises roughly 1,400 species, and Hillebrandia, which consists of a single species endemic to Hawai'i (Symbegonia has since been placed back into Begonia). Although I adore the entire family, its that single genus that is the focus of our attention today. Far from being a strange one-off, Hillebrandia has a fascinating evolutionary history.

The sole species, Hillebrandia sandwicensis, is the only member of the family native to Hawai'i. It differs from the genus Begonia in characters such as its petals, which are more numerous and more differentiated, its ovaries, which do not completely close, as well as various morphological characteristics of its fruit and pollen, which I won't go into here. It occurs naturally only on the islands of Kauai, Maui, and Molokai where it inhabits wet ravines in montane rainforest zones. Nowhere is this species considered abundant. 

Since its discovery in 1866, H. sandwicensis has been the object of much curiosity. Where did it originate? How old of a species is it? How did it get to Hawai'i? Thanks to some molecular work, a few of these questions are becoming a bit more clear. For starters, we can now confidently say that Hillebrandia is a sister lineage to all other Begonias. This in turn has provided a crucial step in our understanding of its biogeography.

Molecular dating techniques place the genus Hillebrandia at about 51–65 million years old, much older than any of the Hawaiian islands. As such, it is likely that this lineage is not the results of an adaptive radiation like we see in most of the archipelago's flora and fauna. Instead, it is now believed that H. sandwicensis is the only known relict species in Hawaiian flora. In other words, the ancestor of H. sandwicensis did not arrive at Hawai'i and then evolve into the species we know today. Instead, it is more likely that the lineage arose elsewhere and then, through a random long-distance seed dispersal event, made it to Hawai'i's oldest islands some 30 million years ago and has been island hopping to younger islands ever since. 

Although its recent history and geographic origins are still open to much speculation, the story of this unique genus has gotten a bit clearer. Its status as Hawai'i's only known relict plant species is quite exciting to say the least. What we can say for sure is that its history was likely full of serendipity that should be celebrated each time someone has an encounter with this lovely Hawaiian plant.

Photo Credits: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1]

 

 

 

 

The Plant That Grows a Perch

For flowering plants, entering into an evolutionary relationship with birds as pollinators can be a costly endeavor. It can take a lot of energy to coax birds to their blossoms. On the whole, bird pollinated flowers are generally larger, sturdier, and produce more nectar. They tend to invest heavily in pigmentation. The plants themselves are often more robust as well. Unlike hummingbirds, which usually hover as they feed, other nectar-feeding birds require a perch. Often this is simply a stout branch or a stem, however, a plant endemic to South Africa takes bird perches to a whole new level - it grows one. 

Meet the rat's tail (Babiana ringens). Though not readily apparent, this bizarre looking plant is a member of the iris family. It is endemic to the Cape Province of South Africa where it can be found growing in sandy soils. It produces a fan of erect, grass-like leaves and, when conditions are right, a side branch full of red tubular flowers. This is when things get a bit strange. 

From that flowering stalk emerges a much longer stalk that is said to resemble the tail of a rat, earning this plant its common name. This stalk rises well above the rest of the flowers. If you look closely at the tip of this stalk you will quickly realize this is yet another flower stalk, though this one is sterile. Such a stalk may seem like a strange structure for this plant to produce until you consider its pollinators. 

The rat's tail has entered into an evolutionary relationship with a species of bird known as the malachite sunbird (Nectarina femosa). To access the nectar within, the malachite sunbird can't simply walk up to and shove its face down into the flowers. Instead, it must access them from above. To do so, it perches itself on the rigid sterile flower stalk. Once in position, the malachite sunbird can dip its long, down-curved beak directly into the flowers. This is exactly what the plant requires. In this perched position, pollen is brushed all over its chest. 

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Researchers wanted to know how obligate this relationship really was. By removing the perch on selected plants, they were able to demonstrate a reduction in pollination success . Specifically, male sunbirds were less likely to visit plants without the perch stalk. Although these plants are capable of self pollinating, like any sexually reproducing organism, outcrossing is the key to success. By offering the birds a sturdy perch allowing them exclusive access to their nectar, the plants guarantee sunbird fidelity.  

Photo Credits: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1]

Pollination with a Twist

Ensuring that pollen from one flower makes it to another flower of that species is paramount to sexual reproduction in plants. It's one of the main drivers of the diversity in shapes, sizes, and colors we see in flowers across the globe. Sometimes the mechanism isn't so obvious. Take, for instance, the flowers of Impatiens frithii.

The flowers of this Cameroonian endemic have been a bit of a puzzle since its discovery. Like all Impatiens, they have a long nectar spur. However, the spur on I. frithii is uniquely curved. This puzzled botanists because most of the Impatiens in this region are pollinated by sunbirds. The curved spur would appear to make accessing the nectar within quite difficult for a bird. Still, just because we can't imagine it, doesn't mean that it's impossible. Something must pollinate this lovely little epiphyte in one way or another. This is where close observation comes in handy.

Thanks to remote cameras and lots of patience, botanists were able to record pollination events. They quickly realized that sunbirds are indeed the primary pollinator of this species. This was a bit of a surprise given the shape of the flower. However, the way in which the flowers deposit pollen on this birds is what is most remarkable. As it turns out, successful reproduction in I. frithii all comes down to that curved nectar spur. 

When a sunbird probes the flower for nectar, its beak follows the contour of the spur and this causes the entire flower to twist. As it twists, the anthers and stigma make contact with the chin of the bird. This is unlike other Impatiens which deposit the pollen on top of the heads of visiting birds.

Such an adaptation is quite remarkable in many ways. For one, it is elegantly simple. Such a small alteration of floral architecture is all that is required. Second, by placing pollen on the underside of the head, the plant guarantees that only pollen from its species will ever come into contact with the stigma. This is what we call reproductive isolation, which is an important driver in speciation.

Photo Credit: [1]

Further Reading: [1]

Important Lessons From Ascension Island

Located in the middle of the South Atlantic, Ascension Island is probably not on the top of anyone's travel list. This bleak volcanic island doesn't have much to offer the casual tourist but what it lacks in amenities it makes up for in a rich and bizarre history. Situated about 2,200 km east of Brazil and 3,200 km west of Angola, this remote island is home to one of the most remarkable ecological experiments that is rarely talked about. The roots of this experiment stem back to a peculiar time in history and the results have so much to teach the human species about botany, climate, extinction, speciation, and much more. What follows is not a complete story; far from it actually. However, my hope is that you can take away some lessons from this and, at the very least, use it as a jumping off point for future discussions. 

Ascension Island is, as land masses go, quite young. It arose from the ocean floor a mere 1 million years ago and is the result of intense volcanic activity. Estimates suggest that volcanism was still shaping this island as little as 1000 years ago. Its volcanic birth, young age, isolated conditions, and nearly non-existent soils meant that for most of its existence, Ascension Island was a depauperate place. It was essentially a desert island. Early sailors saw it as little more than a stopover point to gather turtles and birds to eat as they sailed on to other regions. It wasn't until 1815 that any permanent settlements were erected on Ascension. 

In looking for an inescapable place to imprison Napoleon Bonaparte, the Royal Navy claimed Ascension in the name of King George III. Because Napoleon had a penchant for being an escape artist, the British decided to build a garrison on the island in order to make sure Napoleon would not be rescued. In doing so, the limitations of the island quickly became apparent. There were scant soils in which to grow vegetables and fresh water was nearly nonexistent. 

The native flora of Ascension was minimal. It is estimated that, until the island was settled, only about 25 to 30 plant species grew on the island. Of those 10 (2 grasses, 2 shrubs, and 6 ferns) were considered endemic. If the garrison was to persist, something had to be done. Thus, the Green Mountain garden was established. British marines planted this garden at an elevation of roughly 2000 feet. Here the thin soils supported a handful of different fruits and vegetables. In 1836, Ascension was visited by a man named Charles Darwin. Darwin took note of the farm that had developed and, although he admired the work that was done in making Ascension "livable" he also noted that the island was "destitute of trees."

One of Ascension Island's endemic ferns -  Pteris adscensionis

One of Ascension Island's endemic ferns - Pteris adscensionis

Others shared Darwin's sentiment. The prevailing view of this time period was that any land owned by the British empire must be transformed to support people. Thus, the wheels of 'progress' turned ever forward. Not long after Darwin's visit, a botanist by the name of Joseph Hooker paid a visit to Ascension. Hooker, who was a fan of Darwin's work, shared his sentiments on the paucity of vegetation on the island. Hooker was able to convince the British navy that vegetating the island would capture rain and improve the soil. With the support of Kew Gardens, this is exactly what happened. Thus began the terraforming of Green Mountain.

For about a decade, Kew shipped something to the tune of 330 different species of plants to be planted on Ascension Island. The plants were specifically chosen to withstand the harsh conditions of life on this volcanic desert in the middle of the South Atlantic. It is estimated that 5,000 trees were planted on the island between 1860 and 1870. Most of these species came from places like Argentina and South Africa. Soon, more plants and seeds from botanical gardens in London and Cape Town were added to the mix. The most incredible terraforming experiment in the world was underway on this tiny volcanic rock. 

By the late 1870's it was clear the the experiment was working. Trees like Norfolk pines (Araucaria heterophylla), Eucalyptus spp. and figs (Ficus spp.), as well as different species of banana and bamboo had established themselves along the slopes of Green Mountain. Where there was once little more than a few species of grass, there was now the start of a lush cloud forest. The vegetation community wasn't the only thing that started to change on Ascension. Along with it changed the climate. 

Estimates of rainfall prior to these terraforming efforts are sparse at best. What we have to go on are anecdotes and notes written down by early sailors and visitors. These reports, however, paint a picture of astounding change. Before terraforming began, it was said that few if any clouds ever passed overhead and rain rarely fell. Those living on the island during the decade or so of planting attested to the fact that as vegetation began to establish, the climate of the island began to change. One of the greatest changes was the rain. Settlers on the island noticed that rain storms were becoming more frequent. Also, as one captain noted "seldom more than a day passes over now without a shower or mist on the mountain." The development of forests on Ascension were causing a shift in the island's water cycle. 

Plants are essentially living straws. Water taken up by the roots travels through their tissues eventually evaporating from their leaves. The increase in plant life on the island was putting more moisture into the air. The humid microclimate of the forest understory cooled the surrounding landscape. Water that would once have evaporated was now lingering. Pools were beginning to form as developed soils retained additional moisture.

Now, if you are anything like me, at this point you must be thinking to yourself "but what about the native flora?!" You have every right to be concerned. I don't want to paint the picture that everything was fine and dandy on Ascension Island. It wasn't. Even before the terraforming experiment began, humans and other trespassers left their mark on the local biota. With humans inevitably comes animals like goats, donkeys, pigs, and rats. These voracious mammals went to work on the local vegetation. The early ecology that was starting to develop on Ascension was rocked by these animals. Things were only made worse when the planting began.

Of the 10 endemic plants native to Ascension Island, 3 went extinct, having been pushed out by all of the now invasive plant species brought to the island. Another endemic, the Ascension Island parsley fern (Anogramma ascensionis) was thought to be extinct until four plants were discovered in 2010. The native flora of Ascension island was, for the most part, marginalized by the introduction of so many invasive species. This fact was not lost of Joseph Hooker. He eventually came to regret his ignorance to the impacts terraforming would have on the native vegetation stating “The consequences to the native vegetation of the peak will, I fear, be fatal, and especially to the rich carpet of ferns that clothed the top of the mountain when I visited it." Still, some plants have adapted to life among their new neighbors. Many of the ferns that once grew terrestrially, can now be found growing epiphytically among the introduced trees on Green Mountain. 

The Ascension Island parsley fern ( Anogramma ascensionis )

The Ascension Island parsley fern (Anogramma ascensionis)

Today Ascension Island exists as a quandary for conservation ecologists. On the one hand the effort to protect and conserve the native flora and fauna of the island is of top priority. On the other hand, the existence of possibly the greatest terraforming effort in the world begs for ecological research and understanding. A balance must be sought if both goals are to be met. Much effort is being put forth to control invasive vegetation that is getting out of hand. For instance, the relatively recent introduction of a type of mesquite called the Mexican thorn (Prosopis juliflora) threatens the breeding habitat of the green sea turtle. Efforts to remove this aggressive species are now underway. Although it is far too late to reverse what has been done to Ascension Island, it nonetheless offers us something else that may be more important in the long run: perspective.

If anything, Ascension Island stands as a perfect example of the role plants play in regulating climate. The introduction of these 330+ plant species to Ascension Island and the subsequent development of a forest was enough to completely change the weather of that region. Where there was once a volcanic desert there is a now a cloud forest. With that forest came clouds and rain. If adding plants to an island can change the climate this much, imagine what the loss of plants from habitats around the world is doing. 

Each year an estimated 18 million acres of forest are lost from this planet. As human populations continue to rise, that number is only going to get bigger. It is woefully ignorant to assume that habitat destruction isn't having an influence on global climate. It is. Plants are habitat and when they go, so does pretty much everything else we hold near and dear (not to mention require for survival). If the story of Ascension does anything, I hope it serves as a reminder of the important role plants play in the function of the ecosystems of our planet. 

The endemic Ascension spurge ( Euphorbia origanoides )

The endemic Ascension spurge (Euphorbia origanoides)

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3]

 

A Green Daffodil From Spain

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There are some plants that are so ubiquitous in horticulture that I almost forget that they have wild constituents. Every plant in our gardens can trace its lineage back to the wild. As is often the case, I find the wild congeners of our most beloved horticultural curiosities to be far more fascinating. Take, for instance, the genus Narcissus. Who doesn't recognize a daffodil? The same cannot be said for their wild cousins. In fact, there exists some pretty fantastic species within this genus including a small handful of species that flower in autumn. 

A unique fall flowering daffodil is a species known scientifically as Narcissus viridiflorus. This lovely little plant is quite restricted in its range. You will only find it growing naturally in a small region around Gibraltar where it is restricted to rich, clay and/or rocky soils. During years when it is not in flower, N. viridiflorus produces spindly, rush-like leaves. As such, it can be hard to find. 
 

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When Narcissus viridiflorus does decide to flower, it forgoes leaf production. From the bulb arises a single green scape. From that scape emerges the flower. The flowers of this bizarre daffodil are decidedly not very daffodil-like. They are rather reduced in form, with long, slender green petals and a nearly nonexistent daffodil cone. Also, they are green. Though I have not seen this investigated directly, it has been suggested that the green scape and flowers contain enough chlorophyll that they plant can recoup at least some of the energy involved in producing flowers and eventually seed. 

The flowers themselves open at night and are said to be very fragrant. Again, no data exists on who exactly pollinates this species but the timing, color, and smell all suggest nocturnal insects like moths. Like the other daffodils of this region, Narcissus viridiflorus is poorly understood. Taken in combination with its limited distribution one can easily see how such a species may be quite vulnerable to human disturbance. As it stands now, this species and many of its cousins are no more than horticultural curiosities for more niche bulb societies. In other words, Narcissus viridiflorus is in need of some real attention. 

Photo Credit: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1]

On the Wood Rose and its Bats

New Zealand has some weird nature. It is amazing to see what an island free of any major terrestrial predators can produce. Unfortunately, ever since humans found their way to this unique island, the ecology has suffered. One of the most unique plant and animal interactions in the world can be found on this archipelago but for how much longer is the question.

The story starts with a species of bat. In fact, this bat is New Zealand's only native terrestrial mammal. That's right, I said terrestrial. The New Zealand lesser short-tailed bat spends roughly 40% of its time foraging for insects on the ground. It has lots of specialized adaptations that I won't go into here but the cool part is they forage in packs, stirring up insects from the leaf litter until they reach a level of feeding frenzy that I thought was only reserved for sharks or piranhas. Along with using echo location, they also have a highly developed sense of smell. This is important for our second player in this forest floor drama.

Enter Dactylanthus taylorii, the wood rose. This plant is not a rose at all but rather a member of the tropical family Balanophoraceae. More importantly, it is parasitic. It produces no chlorophyll and lives most of its life wrapped around the roots of its host tree underground. Every once in a while a small patch of flowers break through the dirt and just barely peak above the leaf litter. This give this species it's Māori name of "pua o te reinga" or "pua reinga", which translates to "flower of the underworld." The flowers emit a musky, sweet smell that attracts these ground foraging bats. The bats are one of the only pollinators left on the island. They sniff out the flowers and dine on the nectar, all the while being dusted with pollen. Recently, it has been found that New Zealand's giant ground parrot, the kakapo, is also believed to have been a pollinator of this plant. Sadly, today the kakapo exists solely on one small island of the New Zealand archipelago.

Both the wood rose and the New Zealand lesser short-tailed bat are considered at risk for extinction. When modern man came to these islands they brought with them the general suite of mammalian invasives like rats, mongoose, cats, and pigs, which are exacting a major toll on the local ecology. The plants and animals native to New Zealand have not shared an evolutionary history with such aggressive mammalian invaders and thus have no adaptations for coping with their sudden presence. The future of the wood rose, the New Zealand lesser short-tailed bat, and the kakapo, along with many other uniquely New Zealand species are for now uncertain.

Photo Credits: Joseph Dalton Hooker (1859) and Nga Manu Nature Reserve (http://www.ngamanu.co.nz/)

Further Reading:

http://bit.ly/2bBw8FT

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