A Northwoods Almanac for 9/16-29, 2022

 A Northwoods Almanac for 9/16-29, 2022  

 

Orchids!

            Around 39 species of native orchids occur in Wisconsin’s Northwoods, many of which are associated with wetlands, whether they be cedar swamps, bogs, fens, marshes, or other soggy classifications. But this summer, Mary, Callie and I spotted three species of orchids right along some of the dry dikes at Powell Marsh, two species of which we had never seen before. To be sure, the orchids were off the edges of the sandy dikes and in some damper ground, but still, we were quite surprised to spot them in areas that are regularly mowed and frequently walked.

            I want to tell you about two of the species. On July 9, Mary and I found numerous patches of ragged fringed-orchids (Platanthera lacera) along a portion of one of the dikes. 

ragged fringed orchid, photo by John Bates

What made it more remarkable to us was that we had walked this area many times over the last 38 years and had never seen them! I imagine they were always there, but we weren't observant enough to spot them. Just another lesson in how you think you know a place, and you really don't, as well as a lesson in how a place changes throughout the summer. The natural world changes day to day, and the idea of saying “been there, done that” about any place only suggests how little one understands about nature.

            The species name lacera is Latin meaning “torn,” which aptly describes the deeply cut, or fringed, lip of the flower, while Platanthera comes from the Greek platys meaning “broad or wide” and anthera meaning “anther” (anthers are the part of the male stamens that hold the pollen). 

            The flowers are nocturnally fragrant, attracting night pollinators like sphinx moths, so we’ll have to go out in the evening next summer to inhale their fragrance.

            And in early September we found a dozen or so nodding ladies’ tresses orchids (Spiranthes cernua) along a different dike, and only in one small area. 

nodding ladies' tresses, photo by John Bates

Ladies’ tresses are one of the last of the orchid family to bloom in all of the Northeast, and accompany our more common early fall flowers like goldenrods and asters. The common name derives from the way the flowers are displayed – they appear a bit like a woman’s braid, which is the old meaning of “tress.”

            I usually think of orchids as being species of older, stable environments, but nodding ladies’ tresses are a pioneer species, rapidly colonizing disturbed habitats, and thriving only in the early stages of succession.

            In reading about ladies’ tresses, I came upon something I’ve never observed, most likely for lack of my paying attention. Bees pollinate ladies’ tresses, and the literature says that if you “observe a bee visiting a colony of the plants, you will find that the insect always starts at the bottom of the spiral spike of flowers and works its way up to the top, then flies to the bottom of the next plant’s spike, works upward, etc.” Apparently, this is a perfect example of coevolution, because the lower flowers of the ladies’ tresses mature first and are ready to receive pollen, whereas the upper flowers are less developed and can only give pollen. Thus, a bee picks up new pollen from the top flowers of one plant, flies off to the next, starts at the bottom flower, and delivers the pollen to the mature lower flowers, fertilizing the flowers.

            I’ll not only watch for this in the future, but I’ll also remember to smell the flowers, which I failed to do – they are said to have a mild vanilla scent.

            I was curious how many orchids Mary and I have seen in northern Wisconsin over the years, and out of the possible 39 species, we’ve only tallied 18, so we have a lot more exploring to do.

             

Wild Rice

            I’m fascinated by the beauty, utility, and complexity of wild rice, so I attended Susan Knight’s recent presentation on wild rice at the North Lakeland Discovery Center to learn more. Susan works as a research scientist for the UW Trout Lake Limnology Station, and is an ace aquatic botanist, well-known in our area for the many presentations she has given to lake associations. Over the last two years, she and others have engaged in a study of wild rice to try and determine why wild rice is on the decline on many sites throughout the Upper Midwest. The Great Lakes Indian Fish and Wildlife Commission in Odanah reports a 50% loss of rice across 40 Wisconsin waterways since 1985, and especially over the last six years. Areas like the southwest basin of Allequash Lake, which historically have supported extensive rice beds, are now nearly devoid of rice.   

wild rice flowers, photo by John Bates on Aurora Lake

         

            The difficulty with studying wild rice is that it naturally, and often annually, changes in abundance, and  the environmental factors that influence its abundance are not well understood or monitored. Wild rice is a finicky annual aquatic grass, and factors such as spring temperatures and water levels affect its abundance. So, one has to be careful in analyzing short-term changes. The long-term question is why some rice lakes are doing well while others are failing, and how does one tease apart “normal” variation from “abnormal” variation?

            This study has a different approach. While most wild rice projects look at populations in late summer, this study focused on looking at wild rice through the entire growing season, following the rice from early spring onward, and developing tools to assess the health of the population throughout its life cycle.

            The researchers chose six local lakes to study: two that are doing well (Aurora and Wild Rice lakes), two that are doing poorly (Allequash and Irving lakes), and two that impacted by invasive species (Island and Oneida lakes). They sampled every two weeks in shallow and deeper waters for variables in water temperature, dissolved oxygen, the percentage of other aquatic plants like water lilies that compete with wild rice, and the amount of thatch on the lake bottom (leaf stalks of the rice), as well as counting the stems of rice over various transects, the height of the rice, and sampling for seeds in the sediments.

            The results? Well, they’re inconclusive. Studying an annual like wild rice that varies naturally over time requires long-term monitoring and long-term data sets to be able to say anything definitive, and this has only been a two-year study.

            Wild rice, Susan says, is under assault by things like higher-than-average water levels for the past half-decade, big rain events in spring that might flush wild rice seedlings downstream, milder winters that might allow more perennial vegetation to encroach on their habitat, and more waterfowl, especially swans, that eat the entire plant and don’t wait for seed production and increased development along our lakes and streams. Invasives like curly-leaf pondweed and Eurasian water milfoil are also of concern, as are the unnatural water level fluctuations created by dams designed to mitigate flooding and provide electrical power, but not to promote rice populations. Shoreline development is another factor, as is the decline in water quality in certain areas from sulfide mining.

            It’s complicated! Defining what’s “normal” is an exceedingly difficult task, as surprising as that may sound. Every lake is different. Let me repeat that: Every lake is different. Parsing out the possible factors impacting rice on one lake may not apply to the next lake, and so on.

            We’ve always had natural cycles of high and low waters, and variations in the intensity of rainfall, but are these cycles more extreme now? The answer is yes, and perhaps that’s where much of the blame will be found. But the impact of our expanding trumpeter swan population browsing the young stems may also be a significant factor.

            Further study is clearly warranted, because keeping viable wild rice populations matters not only to people but to a host of wildlife species. I hope the Trout Lake study can be funded over the long-term, so we can get closer to understanding how to conserve our wild rice beds.

 

Lapland Longspurs

            Mary and I hiked one of the dikes at Powell Marsh on 9/5, and had a flock of five Lapland longspurs land in front of us. This is notable because Lapland longspurs breed at the edge of the tree-line across vast areas of the Arctic tundra and are only occasionally seen in migration through our area. They winter in open fields across the central states with their greatest abundance on the Great Plains from South Dakota to Kansa.

            They’re a sparrow-like songbird that for non-birders in the fall may be classified as yet another LBB (little brown bird), but in their breeding plumage, the male is absolutely striking, with a black face, a yellow stripe above the eye, and a rufous nape.

 

Fireweed Seeds

            Fireweed has lost its lovely magenta flowers, and has now gone to seed. The seedpods split apart lengthwise releasing 300 to 500 seeds per pod - a single plant can produce up to 80,000 seeds! They’re all attached to a silky down that is easily carried far away on a wind. A 1987 study found that up to 50% of fireweed seed plumes cruise on winds higher than 300 feet, and can travel for a hundred miles or more where they hope to settle on bare soil, particularly after a fire, and can germinate.

 

fireweed in seed, photo by John Bates

Celestial Events

            Autumn equinox occurs on 9/22. Our days are now growing shorter by over three minutes every day. The sun will set this day nearest to due west, and will rise nearest to due east on 9/24. In the Lakeland area, we actually hit almost exactly 12 hours of sunlight on 9/25, then it’s the long decline in sunlight until winter solstice on 12/21, and the gradual return of more sunlight leading up to the spring equinox in mid-March.

            The new moon occurs on 9/25.

            If you haven’t been out looking for planets in the night sky, try looking after dusk for Jupiter rising in the east – it will be visible most of the night. Saturn also rises before sunset in the southeast and is observable all evening.

            Mars rises before midnight and is visible before dawn in the south, while Jupiter is bright in the southwest. 

 

Thought for the Week

            “The land retains an identity of its own, still deeper and more subtle than we can know. Our obligation toward it then becomes simple: to approach with an uncalculating mind, with an attitude of regard . . . be alert for its openings, for that moment when something sacred reveals itself within the mundane, and you know the land knows you are there.” – Barry Lopez, Arctic Dreams

 

Please share your outdoor sightings and thoughts: e-mail me at manitowish@centurytel.net, call 715-476-2828, snail-mail at 4245N State Highway 47, Mercer, WI, or see my blog at www.manitowishriver.blogspot.com.