by Jim Parry
Walking around camp one day this spring, I'm looking at wildflowers.
The land is greening, brown for months, and fantastic colors just add
to the spectacle. So inspiring, so welcoming! I keep a field guide
handy. Some of these flowers I know, some are waiting for me to learn
more about. And every day in the spring brings a change. I love wildflowers — the
colors, the shapes, the timing. I turn a corner on a pathway to find
them in the prairie, in the forest, by the water's edge.
Of course,
flowers bloom during seasons other than spring, but things are so intense
at this time. It's like every living thing is racing to get a
jump on the newly available rainwater and sunlight. Trees, birds, bugs,
all sorts of critters wake up and just seem to go crazy. I like to
believe they are blooming just to make my day, all for me. Of course,
those bright petals are a sort of trick to attract insects to pollinate
the plant. The flowers will then make seeds and propagate the species.
And the insects get food for their efforts as well.
Wildflowers tell
us a lot about time. When a particular plant blooms, the plant and
its pollinator insect species work together. So, both must be ready
to do their part.
Preparation is a major part of this. A plant must
put a great portion of its energy into blooming, so conditions must
be just right. Roots must deliver water and nutrients, the stem has
to hold the weight of a flower, and the plant itself must store enough
energy for it all to happen. Scientists do not know exactly what causes
each plant to bloom when it does. In some cases, temperature is a major
factor. In other cases, a plant waits for a certain number of hours
of light in a day. Many plants wait for a good rain before they show
their glory. Usually, a combination of factors must occur.
Most flowers
are pollinated by flying insects: bees, beetles, flies, butterflies,
and moths. Long before an insect can fly, an egg must avoid being eaten
long enough to hatch, a larva (or nymph) must eat enough (again avoiding
predation), grow over time, pupate, and finally, grow wings, which
only appear for the adult. Only then can it get from bloom to bloom
to the pollen.
Some flowers are very specific; they bloom for a short
time, in a particular location, and only a few insects are able to
pollinate them. Things are less critical for other flowers.
Spring
beauty flowers are among the first blooms of the season. Six white
petals with a yellow center, these flowers grow in open meadows and
uncut lawns; their long slender leaves are easily mistaken for blades
of grass. They are among the first invitations to attract early-season
insects. Bees are quick to the bait and move that pollen around. A
few weeks into the season, spring beauties have turned to seed, and
they blend in with the grass. Their color no longer graces the prairie,
yielding to dandelions, plantain, and clover.
Bright yellow dandelions
are generalists — ducking beneath the lawnmower blade, frustrating
lawn perfectionists, all season long. With those thick taproots reaching
deep, they have an impressive capacity to bloom and bloom again, and
play host to any bug that will light on them. Their seeds are spread
by wind and countless fascinated children.
Sunflowers take the warmest
part of the summer season, attracting bumblebees and even hummingbirds.
In the meadow, goldenrods wait for their chance at the end of the summer.
In the eastern deciduous forest, trout lilies (also called dogtooth
violets) open the spring show. Spiderworts, wild geraniums, and redbuds
follow soon after. By the time the tallest trees have filled the canopy,
there is little light available for very many more flowers on the forest
floor, so the woods' wildflower show is less spectacular than
the prairie's.
Many insects can see ultraviolet light, and some
flower petals appear quite different when viewed under it; all to be
attractive to bugs, to be sure.
Wild ginger plants grow near the forest
floor throughout the central U.S. later in the season, and their flowers,
which grow very low to the ground and have no real color except green
and brown, have a distasteful smell. They are particularly attractive
to dung beetles!
This floral fashion show is truly a competition for
the services insects provide, and the stakes are no less than the survival
of the species. It does not operate like clockwork, however; many things
can happen. Weather, among other factors, can interrupt the life cycle
of a flower, an insect, or another part of the local ecology.
The meadow
plant yarrow (Achillea millefolium) is a great example of how plants
are intimately associated with humans in time. The genus name, Achillea,
is from the Greek hero Achilles. According to legend, Achilles carried
the plant onto the battlefield to treat his wounded soldiers during
the Trojan War. Research has proven that the plant does contain chemicals
that help to stop the bleeding of wounds. Millefolium translates literally
to mean “a thousand leaves” and is very descriptive of
the plant's foliage. For pioneer girls, wrapping yarrow in a
piece of flannel and placing it beneath your pillow was believed to
bring prophetic dreams of love. However, if you happened to dream of
cabbage while sleeping on the yarrow, bad luck will come to you.
Thus,
flowers and insects have a marvelous and intricate partnership. They
provide for each other. We might expect, and indeed we find, flowering
plants and insects show major changes at similar times in the fossil
record. The two groups have evolved together over geologic time.
To
everything turn, turn. To everything there is a season; a time and
purpose under heaven. Every flower and insect has its time, day, and
era.
Originally published in the 2008 March/April
issue of Camping Magazine. |
