Storm Damaged Orchid

The lone Blue Jay Barrens Yellow Lady’s Slipper Orchid sent up two stalks this year and managed to produce three full blooms.

It’s hard to consider a population as being stable when there is just a single individual involved.  As in the past, I’ve been searching to discover another of this species somewhere on the property.  No luck so far.

This plant manages to send up at least one flowering stalk each year.  Unfortunately, it seems a normal occurrence for disaster to befall the plant before it can develop a seed pod.  The flowers and top of plant have been eaten on several occasions, a large limb fell and crushed the single flower that developed that year, a strange wilting disease shriveled up the flowers another year.  It always seems to be something.  This year it was a particularly violent wind storm.

This flower lost its slipper completely.

A neatly storm cleaved slipper makes it easy to view the interior pattern.

Only one of the three flowers was unscathed.  So far, the plants have only had to contend with a single disaster per year.  Though that doesn’t mean they are now really safe.

Back After A Ten Year Absence

I just recently welcomed back a plant that hadn’t been seen at Blue Jay Barrens for over 10 years. The Showy Orchis was commonly seen here 30 years ago. It wasn’t long though, until the numbers of blooming plants began to dwindle. It became more and more common to find plants that had been eaten almost to the ground. And then there were none. Since I personally witnessed a Whitetail deer eat two of these plants, leaving nothing but the bases of the leaves and flower stalk, I figured that the increasing deer population was partly responsible for the decline in the orchid population.

The most colorful part of the flower is hidden from the view of aerial observers. You must get down to ground level and look up into the flower to get the best effect. Like most orchid flowers, the Showy Orchis does a fine job of mimicking a face within the blossom.

Although the plant is small, it is easily seen from a distance in the woodland.  The lack of great drifts of spring wildflowers in the Blue Jay Barrens woods may be partially responsible for the clear visibility of this plant.

This particular specimen was found growing on the steep slopes dropping away from a high ridge. If my typical luck holds true, I’ll come back to find that the dead tree in the right of the photo has fallen squarely atop the orchid.

Along with the blooming plant, I found a couple of leaves that looked as though they could be a source of blooms in future years.

The day after finding the orchid, I found a second blooming plant growing about 100 yards away from first. I would like to believe that the appearance of these two plants indicates a resurgence of the Blue Jay Barrens population of Showy Orchis. Unfortunately, I’m too much the pessimist to be entertaining such thoughts.

Fall Orchids

One of my late September rituals is to make the rounds to admire the final orchids of the year.  Spiranathes ovalis is a late season orchid that is uncommon in Ohio, but which has been steadily increasing its numbers at Blue Jay Barrens.

I find Spiranthes ovalis typically growing at the base of steep wooded hillsides and the adjacent gently sloped area between the hill and the creek. 

The demure plants are difficult to find among the fallen leaves and competing vegetation in the shadows of the trees.  My initial discoveries are always made on the walking trails.  The trails typically get mowed twice each summer.  The second mowing is done in late August, prior to the elongation of the orchid flower stalk, so I don’t accidently decapitate one of these lovely flowers.  The orchid in the above photo is located in the lower right hand quadrant.

Blooms are withering on plants that opened their flowers early in September.  Many of the plants only produce a few flowers.

Others produce long spikes.  I’ve tracked many Spiranthes ovalis plants through the years and have found that they usually persist for four or five years before disappearing.  Even if a plant doesn’t flower in a given year, it will produce a cluster of basal leaves.  If a few years pass without leaves appearing, I assume the plant is dead.  Fortunately, new plants always seem to be emerging to take the place of those lost.

The second late season orchid, and my personal favorite, is Spiranthes magnicamporum.

This species is capable of producing some very robust flower spikes.  The flowers are not only large and attractive, they produce a strong scent.

There are a few individual Spiranthes magnicamporum plants scattered around Blue Jay Barrens, but only two areas where you can find a concentration of plants.  This past Sunday, I found a dozen plants blooming here.  Shallow, rocky soil with patchy vegetation typifies the conditions in which I am likely to find these plants.

The second site of Spiranthes magnicamporum plants is slightly steeper than the former, but no less barren.  This site had a large number of blooming plants last year.  I counted only seven this year.  It’s rather hard to predict just how well the orchids are going to do in any given year.

Not only were there fewer plants this year, those plants present developed flowers spikes much shorter than normal.  This species is also increasing in number.  That means it is more likely that I’ll find a few large, impressive plants each year.

New Location for a Favorite Rare Plant

It is always exciting to discover a new location for a rare plant already known to be growing at Blue Jay Barrens.  Sometimes it’s more exciting than adding a new species to the property list.  Yesterday I discovered a new population of Spiranthes magnicamporum, Great Plains Ladies’ Tresses, an orchid species that is listed as Potentially Threatened in Ohio.

It was cloudy with a light drizzle of rain when I noticed a white beacon before me.  White flowers that are often lost in the brilliance of sunlight, can sometimes glow brightly in dim conditions.  This bloom was impossible to overlook.

It’s no wonder the plant caught my attention.  With a total height of 16 inches, five inches of that being the flower spike, it clearly stood out from the surrounding vegetation.  When I crouched down to get a photo, the fragrance was almost overwhelming.

I found 14 flowering plants all growing in this strange eroded area near the toe of a steep slope.  Fourteen years ago I found a single Spiranthes magnicamporum growing in a tiny opening that is located about 30 yards into the cedars in the direction of the orange leaved trees showing in the upper right portion of the photo.  That plant has not been seen to bloom since.  There is a walking trail that passes horizontally through the photo about a third of the way up the frame.  I walk this trail frequently and am sure I would have noticed blooming orchids before, had they been here.  I’m wondering if these plants might have come from seed released by that lone plant I saw earlier.

Some of the plants were growing from clumps of grasses, primarily Little Bluestem, that had become established in the eroded soil.

Others just sprang from almost bare ground.

Those growing in bare soil were much easier to find than those hidden in the grasses.  The plant in the upper left of this photo is the one that first attracted my attention.  While I was examining that plant, I completely failed to notice the slightly smaller version just a few feet away and visible in the lower right corner of the photo.  I didn’t find the second plant until much later while doing a careful search of the whole area.

At just over three inches, this is a typical sized flower spike.  Even small plants produce an abundance of scent, making them easy for pollinators to find.  Despite the fragrance, I’ve never seen any insects on these plants.  It’s clear that pollination is occurring since most plants develop seeds.  Since the flowers release their pollen only to nectaring insects, there must be insect visitors.  If we have another warm afternoon, I may just hang out with these flowers for a few hours to see what comes by.

Orchid Colonization

As a youngster, I always thought of orchids as being extremely delicate plants that needed exacting conditions in order to grow and flower.  I probably formed that opinion from watching TV shows in which hothouse orchids expired from encounters with cold drafts or little boy’s fingers.  I held on to my opinion until adulthood, but things changed when I was introduced to some of Ohio’s resident orchid species.  If these plants could survive the wild extremes of our weather patterns, they must possess a healthy dose of toughness and stamina.  The Blue Jay Barrens orchids, such as these Large Twayblades, express some of those qualities.

These orchids are growing in what, 30 years ago, was an annually plowed field devoted to the production of agricultural grain crops.  This exact spot is near the edge of the field in a location that was also used as a travel lane to move harvest equipment in and out of the field.  I planted a White Pine windbreak here 28 years ago that has since developed into a pine shaded strip with a thick bed of needles.  Into this, orchids have arisen.

If these flowers are properly pollinated, there will result a multitude of tiny seeds that are light enough to be picked up and carried long distances by the wind.  Those seeds just have to find the proper environment in which to germinate and develop new plants.

It’s encouraging to think that the cropland soil could recover sufficiently in less than 30 years to be the proper medium for an orchid plant.  This event doesn’t fit my earlier perception of orchid behavior.  Highly compacted, heavily eroded cropland soil just doesn’t seem to be an ideal environment in which to find a plant as exotic as an orchid.

What was once a single blooming plant has become two.  This small leaf, growing beside the two mature plants, is indication that next year may bring a trio of blooming orchids.

Marked by sticks on my walking path is another species of orchid that has found the old crop field a suitable site for colonization.

Ragged Fringed Orchid is a plant of the open fields.  Unfortunately, it’s hard to see when growing in a field full of tall grasses.  Each year I mark those growing up in the trail, but something always seems to happen to them before they bloom.  I’m hoping one will produce a flower so I can get some photos.

This plant is looking quite healthy.  That bud should produce an impressive display.

This one isn’t faring nearly as well as the first.  Weevils have been feeding heavily here.

A third has succumbed to some type of wilt.  I’ve seen Ragged Fringed Orchids blooming in the field in the past, but that was pre digital camera.  I’ve already give it credit for being a tough plant and it has certainly established itself widely across the field.  It would just please me greatly if one of those tenacious plants would favor me with a flower.

Plants 2013 - Crested Coral-root

I had to wait five years to get a digital photo of a Crested Coral-root Orchid, Hexalectris spicata, at Blue Jay Barrens.  Its last appearance was in 2008 and I was able to capture the image in print and slide form.  In 2009 I was prowling the woods with my newly purchased digital camera, hoping to get some good shots of the Crested Coral-root, a plant listed as potentially threatened in Ohio.  Unfortunately, this particular orchid species often skips blooming for a year or two and my photographic attempts proved futile.  I was certainly concerned at its failure to appear for a half decade.

 

Crested Coral-root is a south-western species that has just barely extended its range into southern Ohio.  As is often the case with plants growing at the extreme limits of their range, weather conditions have a significant impact on their growth habits.  Sight of a single flower stalk on August 2, 2013 marked my first viewing of this orchid since its flowers faded back in 2008 and was the first of many found that day.

 

The actual body of the plant is found below ground and it is only the flower stalks that are exposed.  This is a plant lacking in chlorophyll, meaning no green coloration and the inability to perform photosynthesis, the means by which energy from the sun is used to convert carbon dioxide and water into carbohydrates and oxygen.  Because the plant does not require sunlight, Hexalectris can thrive in the shadiest of locations.

 

The Crested Coral-root orchids at Blue Jay Barrens grow on dry ridge tops exhibiting shallow soil over limestone bedrock.  Most of the plants are in close proximity to mature Chinquapin Oaks, Quercus muehlenbergii, like the one shown here with a lichen covered trunk.  Even though they can’t produce their own, carbohydrates are still necessary for the growth and survival of the plant.  To get what is needed, the orchid steals from other plants.

 

It’s possible that Chinquapin Oaks are a major supplier of carbohydrates to the Crested Coral-root Orchids.  The green oak leaves work through the day producing carbohydrates.  That captured energy is then moved to the tree roots for storage.

 

The act of transferring energy from tree to orchid is accomplished through filaments of mycorrhizal fungi that link the two plants.  Mycorrhizal fungi have associations with many plants and generally trade nutrients extracted from the soil for sugars produced by the plants.  Crested Coral-root Orchids have evolved to take all of their needs from their associated fungi.  It’s unclear whether or not the orchid actually gives anything back to the fungus.

 

It’s not hard to understand why these special orchids are a rarity.  First of all, just like any other plant, their seeds must fall in a location suitable for germination and development.  Secondly, the proper species of mycorrhizal fungus needs to be present and able to grow on that site.  Finally, there needs to be a compatible plant available to transfer sugars to the fungi.  Weather or other environmental factors can work on any one of the three components of this partnership with the end result being a lack of flower production on the part of the orchid.

 

Other than protecting the site from disturbance, I don’t know that there is anything I can do to improve the chances of the orchid’s survival.  I just enjoy the blooms when they appear and hope there’s not another five year absence.

Puttyroot

I’ll admit that the winter woodland landscape can appear rather desolate compared to the lush growth of summer, but it’s far from being a floristic wasteland. Plants in general exhibit a wide range of different survival strategies. A key factor in that survival is the ability to capture enough sunlight to produce and store the energy needed for life. Many plant species have adapted to a life cycle that allows them avoid competition with other plants by utilizing the winter sunlight.

Winter plants are often small, ground hugging species. The area near the ground warms more quickly and remains warm longer than the air just inches above. Sometimes the difference can be minimal, but it’s enough to allow photosynthesis to be a little more efficient. Low growing plants are also less likely to lose moisture to dry, winter winds. Unfortunately, many people fail to notice the winter greenery because they believe no plants would be growing in winter.

A few years ago, I was having a conversation with a person in their woods when the person began kicking and scuffing at a leaf similar to the one shown here. I watched for a few seconds and then asked if he had something against orchids. He gave me a puzzled look, something I’ve come to expect when I talk to people, and asked what I meant. I pointed out that the leaf he was mangling belonged to the Puttyroot, Aplectrum hyemale, an orchid that does the majority of its growing through the winter. I had to get his face right down to the ground before he could clearly see that it was a fresh, green and growing leaf. Just for the record, I asked him to get down and look at the leaf. I didn’t push him down.

Puttyroot leaves emerge in late fall and persist until spring. They’re a rather common plant in many woodlands, but people don’t notice because their minds tell them that botany season is over. I’m always bothered when I see a picture of a winter landscape with a caption that says “It’s winter, so nothing is growing here now.” The plants may not be up poking you in the face, but if I couldn’t find a few plants taking advantage of the winter sunlight, I’d be wondering what was wrong.

By the time the flower blooms in early summer, the leaf is gone. This is unfortunate, because the flowers are almost impossible to see. The best strategy for viewing Puttyroot in bloom is to find the winter leaves and then revisit that spot during the blooming season. But don’t miss the chance to get a close look at these lovely leaves. The lumpy, wrinkled appearance makes some people think the leaves are diseased or damaged. This is the natural look and I think it just gives the leaves a bit of character.

A close-up of the leaf reveals some very attractive patterns and designs. I think the wave pattern created by the two bands of veins is particularly neat. The whole image reminds me of the most common and sought after pattern bred into so many of our common houseplants. It you’re out enjoying a winter’s stroll, pay some attention to what might be green and growing beneath your feet.