A Northwoods Almanac
for July 24 – August 6, 2015
Orchids!
A few weeks
back, Rod Sharka invited me along on a paddle to see orchids in a pristine
northern Vilas County bog lake. Rod knows his wetland plants and regularly
scouts area sites for orchids, so I knew I was in for a treat. And the bog
delivered! We spent several hours slowly paddling the convoluted shoreline, and
I’d conservatively estimate that we saw many, many hundreds of orchids,
particularly rose pogonia (Pogonia
ophioglossoides). If we’d paddled a few days earlier, we’d have likely seen
equal numbers of grass-pink (Calopogon tuberosis),
but most of those were past flowering.
The “lip”
of the rose pogonia is “bearded” with a crest of white to rosy-purple short
bristles that rise from the lip. Four or five pink-to-rose petals with purple
veins frame the lip like wings. These orchids were sprinkled nearly everywhere
throughout the bog, averaging perhaps eight inches tall. We found one pure
white rose pogonia, a rare form called Pogonia
albiflora, which I’d never seen before.
The
grass-pink orchid varies from nearly all other orchids in that its lip is
located at the top of the flower rather than at its base. The lip is tipped
with yellow bristles, which apparently mimics pollen-filled male anthers found
in other flowers, and thus attracts pollinating bees. The lip is hinged, so that
when the bee lands on the lip, it suddenly bends downward, throwing the bee
onto the flower column. The bee then inadvertently contacts the female stigma,
depositing any pollen it may have picked up on other flowers. Plus, it then
picks up additional new pollen to haul away to the next flower it lands on, a
remarkably clever co-evolution between the bee and the flower.
When we
pulled out, another orchid awaited us – spotted coralroot (Corallorhiza maculata). We frequently see this orchid in older woodlands,
and, indeed, two weeks later we saw numerous ones on a short hike into the
Sylvania wilderness area. But next to the bog lake, there were several growing
in a moss mat a few yards up from the water.
The lips of the tiny white flowers
are spotted with purple dots, and grow along a reddish-purple stem. The plant
lacks chlorophyll, so it appears to some more like a fungus than a flower. But
indeed it’s simply a nonphotosynthetic saprophyte, extracting its nutrients
from decomposing organic matter.
Sundews
On our
paddle, we also encountered remarkable numbers of sundews, both round-leaved
and narrow-leaved, perhaps more than I’ve ever seen on a bog lake. Nearly all
of them were budded out, but not flowering, though Rod had seen some in flower
a few days earlier.
Sundew's
leaf stems grow in a circular rosette about the size of a quarter to a half
dollar, each leaf blade expanding at its tip into an oval "sun" that
is covered with thick hairs. The hairs project like the rays of the sun, each
with a glistening drop of sticky fluid at its end, like dew. The minute flowers
bloom white or pink in July all on one side of a long (4-9") slender
stalk.
The carnivorous sundew attracts
diminutive insects like mosquitoes (such a shame!) with its attractive rosy
coloration, sweet smell, and sparkling fluid-tipped tentacles, and then traps
them in its viscous droplets. The leaf gradually folds over the captive, and
then secretes an enzyme to digest the insect, though digestion may not be
complete for several weeks. While not as dramatic as a Venus flytrap, which
closes instantaneously, the sundew can take larger prey. A botanist in Michigan
watched a monarch butterfly fail to free itself from the syrupy “dew,” while a
late 19th century naturalist referred to the sundew as a “bloodthirsty little
miscreant.”
Sundews
have had a surprising amount of historical utility including use as a red ink,
a wart and corn remover, an antispasmodic, and as a natural flypaper to be hung
indoors.
Darwin experimented at length on the
insectivorous plants, attempting in one set of experiments to feed inedible
substances to the sundew, whereupon the sundew, after a brief embrace, would
drop the false hope and patiently wait for its next opportunity.
Horned Bladderworts
One last
uncommon plant we encountered on our paddle was horned bladderwort, like
sundew, an insectivorous plant. Bladderworts typically capture minute insects
underwater in a hollow bladder-like trap enclosing a partial vacuum that is
triggered by hairs near its opening. The bladders work a bit like squeezing all
the air out of a ball and then letting go, resulting in a sucking inrush of
air. Insects swim by brushing against the bladderworts hairs, the compressed
bladder releases and sucks in the insect, and an elastic trap door mechanism
snaps shut preventing escape. Slick and quick, the whole process takes 1/460 of
a second, though the insect must decay for several weeks before its fluids may
be absorbed.
That’s
remarkable enough, but what I like to do when I encounter a horned bladderwort
is immediately pick one flower, hold it to my nose, and inhale as deeply as I
can. Famous American naturalist John Burroughs wrote that it is “perhaps the
most fragrant flower we have . . . Its perfume is sweet and spicy in an eminent
degree.” I think it smells a bit like the old style Grape Nehi soda we drank as
kids, but though I’ve searched, I have no idea what that flavoring came from.
Whatever the smell may be compared to,
it is one of the most pleasantly aromatic flowers I know.
Roadside Weeds:
Common Mullein
Well, let’s
leave the undisturbed, pristine bog and walk a roadside where plants that are
adapted to poor soils and full sunlight thrive. One of these “weeds” is common
mullein, a Eurasian native. Mullein is a biennial, growing in its first year
only into a small rosette of leaves an inch or two across. But in its second
year, the plant takes off, sometimes growing up to seven feet. Mary and I
regularly bike the Manitowish Waters bike trail to Boulder Junction, and there’s
a sandy area along the trail that is rife with mullein, looking to me akin to a
stand of desert cacti.
The stem
and leaves are covered with velvety hairs, like a super-thick flannel shirt,
while the central stem terminates in a small spike of unremarkable yellow
flowers. One writer says of the dried-out stems that remain standing in the
third year that they look like “burned out sparklers,” an apt description.
They’re great perches for birds, and they produce many thousands of seeds, but
whether the birds utilize the seeds is unknown to me.
Mullein,
like so many plants that grow on disturbed soils, is considered invasive, so
cut it off wherever and whenever you can. Other roadside “weeds” now
proliferating include natives like fireweed, common milkweed, and spreading
dogbane, along with non-natives like purple vetch, bird’s-foot trefoil,
butter-and-eggs, spotted knapweed, and bladder-campion.
Celestial Events
Look for
Saturn about two degrees above the waxing moon on 7/25. The Delta Aquarid
meteor shower peaks in the predawn on 7/29, but unfortunately, the nearly full
moon will wash out most of the show. Speaking of the full moon, the second full
moon of the month, the blue moon, occurs on 7/31.
Longtime Loon
Researcher Mike Meyer Retires
Just a
quick note to recognize recently retired DNR research scientist Mike Meyer for
his scientific contributions to our area. Mike dedicated much of his research
to loon monitoring, including citizen science and public outreach. Meyer also
did cutting edge research on contaminants such as mercury and other
bioaccumulating toxins in a variety of bird species, including loons and eagles.
During
his time with the WDNR, Mike, along with loon researcher, Walter Piper,
directed the banding of over 3,600 common loons in our area. His research
projects included: developing an Ashland/Chequamegon Bay shoreland restoration
project from 2010-2012; assessing the potential population effects of Botulism
E toxin and Gulf oil exposure on migrating Wisconsin waterbirds; developing a
Wisconsin wildlife mercury monitoring plan and promoting Wisconsin as a
National Mercury Monitoring site; evaluating the impact of legacy
polychlorinated bioaccumulating toxic substances (PCBs, DDE, PBDE, PFOS, PFOA)
on Wisconsin's Great Lakes bald eagle population – the “Wisconsin Bald Eagle
Biosentinel Project”; evaluating the risk to native fisheries of the use of
liquid herbicides (2,4-D) to control Eurasian Watermilfoil in Wisconsin lakes;
examining the potential effects of climate change on inland glacial lakes and the
implications for lake-dependent biota in Wisconsin; assessing the vulnerability
and adaptation strategies of Wisconsin's wildlife to climate change; measuring
the value of wildlife habitat restoration on northern Wisconsin Lakes: “The
Wisconsin Shoreland Restoration Project”; assessing the impact of mercury
exposure on Wisconsin's Common Loon population; and assessing the population
effects of lead fishing tackle on fish-eating wildlife in Wisconsin.
Mike’s
position was one of the 18 DNR science positions cut in the state’s recently
passed budget – one-third of the scientific services staff – a stunningly
misguided inclusion that had virtually no impact on our state’s economy. I’d
like to simply thank Mike for his exceptional scientific contributions to our
area. We understand one heck of a lot more about loons, eagles, mercury,
shoreland restoration, and a host of other things because of his dedication.
He’ll be missed.
