A Hardy Tillandsia That Deserves Our Respect

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As epiphytes go, Tillandsia recurvata (a.k.a. ball moss) doesn’t have the best reputation. All too often it is seen as an unsightly pest of trees that needs to be removed. This could not be farther from the truth. This hardy air plant does no harm to the trees on which it grows. What’s more, its relationship with a specific group of bacteria means it is a major contributor to soil fertility. Today I would like to sing the praise of the indefatigable Tillandsia recuvata.

Tillandsia recurvata is native throughout an impressive chunk of the Americas, from the southern United States through to northern Argentina and Chile. Wherever temperatures rarely dip below freezing, T. recurvata can make an easy living. One of the most remarkable aspects of this species is the array of habitat types in which it grows. This hardy little air plant is equally at home in sub-tropical conditions as it is arid desert habitats. Its ability to tolerate heat, drought, and plenty of air pollution has led to its colonization of urban environments as well.

One of the keys to its success is the way in which T. recurvata handles photosynthesis. As is typical of the bromeliad family (Bromeliaceae), T. recurvata utilizes CAM photosynthesis. Instead of opening its stomata during the day, when high temperatures and baking sun would lead to unsustainable rates of water loss, T. recurvata opens its stomata at night, taking in CO2 while temperatures are more favorable. It then stores this CO2 as an organic acid that it can use later on the next day when the sun comes up. In doing so, T. recurvata can keep its stomata closed and save on water while still being able to synthesize the carbohydrates it needs.

Photo by micklpickl licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

Photo by micklpickl licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

I think one of the main reasons T. recurvata doesn’t get the respect that many of its cousins receive is that it doesn’t put on a spectacular floral show when in bloom. Tiny purple to lavender petals just barely emerge from between bracts located a the tips of long flowers stalks. The flowers don’t last long and are quickly replaced by long, brown seed capsules. These capsules eventually burst open, releasing plenty of tiny seeds, each adorned with wispy filaments that help them take advantage of the slightest breeze. Though the seeds themselves are small and don’t show many adaptations for adhering to suitable substrates, I have found that those silky filaments tend to get matted up and stuck on whatever surface they land on. In this way, seeds at least have a chance to germinate on everything from twigs to power lines, and even other Tillandsias.

The reason this species earned the specific epithet ‘recurvata’ and the common name ‘ball moss’ has to do with both its growth habit and its propensity to grow on others of its own kind. Each leaf curls backward as it grows, giving individual plants a spherical shape. As more and more seedlings germinate on and around one another, these colonies can take on a massive, ball-like appearance. This has led many to classify this species as a parasite, however, this is not the case at all. It is wrongly assumed that these plants weaken the trees on which they grow and this is simply not the case.

Like many other epiphytes, T. recurvata likes a lot of sunlight. As such, plants tend to do better a the tops of trees or near the tips of branches. Certainly this can cause some degree of shading for the trees on which they grow, but this is insignificant considering how much a tree’s own branches and leaves shade those further down on the trunk. Also, T. recurvata are quick to move in on branches that have lost foliage or are already dead. This can often appear are is the plants have taken over the tree, causing it to die back. In reality, T. recurvata colonies are a merely a symptom of a tree already stressed by other factors. As the canopy starts to thin, more air plants are able to find suitable habitat for germination and growth. Trees covered in T. recurvata were already weak or dying, not the other way around.

In fact, evidence is showing that T. recurvata are actually an important source of nitrogen for the surrounding environment. Within their tissues, T. recurvata house specialized bacteria in the genus Pseudomonas, which are capable of fixing nitrogen directly from the atmosphere. In return for a place to live, these bacteria provide their air plant host with a nitrogen boost that would otherwise be unavailable. When T. recurvata detach from whatever they are growing on (something they frequently do in droves), they fall to the ground, rot, and enrich the soil with a shot of nitrogen. As such, these wonderful epiphytes are actually a boost to the growth of not only their hosts but many other plant species as well.

Photo by panza.rayada licensed under CC BY 3.0

Photo by panza.rayada licensed under CC BY 3.0

Probably the most incredible feat of this species has been its conquest of the human environment. Throughout its range you can find T. recurvata thriving on man-made structures like power lines. For a species that gets all of its needs from the atmosphere, it is amazing how well T. recurvata is able to handle air pollution. Because it is so darn hardy, this air plant has caught the attention of more than one researcher. In fact, some are even looking at T. recurvata as a unique candidate for green roof construction in warmer climates.

All in all, this is one of the hardiest plants you are going to encounter in the Americas. One should look on at T. recurvata colonies with respect and admiration, not disgust and disdain. We fight species like this for all of the wrong reasons when in reality, we should be embracing them as both survivors and important components of ecosystem health. I hope this post has been able to do away with at least some of the misconceptions about this species. Three cheers for Tillandsia recurvata!

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

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

How Air Plants Drink

 Tillandsia tectorum. Photo by Edu licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

 Tillandsia tectorum. Photo by Edu licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Air plants (genus Tillandsia) are remarkable organisms. All it takes is seeing one in person to understand why they have achieved rock star status in the horticulture trade. Unlike what we think of as a "traditional" plant lifestyle, most species of air plants live a life free of soil. Instead, they attach themselves to the limbs and trunks of trees as well as a plethora of other surfaces. 

Living this way imposes some serious challenges. The biggest of these is the acquisition of water. Although air plants are fully capable of developing roots, these organs don't live very long and they are largely incapable of absorbing anything from the surrounding environment. The sole purpose of air plant roots is to anchor them to whatever they are growing on. How then do these plants function? How do they obtain water and nutrients? The answer to this lies in tiny structures called trichomes. 

Trichomes are what gives most air plants their silvery sheen. To fully appreciate how these marvelous structures work, one needs some serious magnification. A close inspection would reveal hollow, nail-shaped structures attached to the plant by a stem. Instead of absorbing water directly through the leaf tissues, these trichomes mediate the process and, in doing so, prevent the plant from losing more water than it gains. 

The trichomes themselves start off as living tissue. During development, however, they undergo programmed cell death, leaving them hollow. When any amount of moisture comes into contact with these trichomes, they immediately absorb that water, swelling up in the process. As they swell, they are stretched out flat along the surface of the leaf. This creates a tiny film of water between the trichomes and the rest of the leaf, which only facilitates the absorption of more water. 

Trichomes up close.  Photo by Mark Smith1989 licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

Trichomes up close.  Photo by Mark Smith1989 licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

Because the trichomes form a sort of conduit to the inside of the leaf, water and any nutrients dissolved within are free to move into the plant until the reach the spongy mesophyll cells inside. In this way, air plants get all of their water needs from precipitation and fog. Not all air plants have the same amount of trichomes either. In fact, trichome density can tell you a lot about the kind of environment a particular air plant calls home. 

Photo by Bernard DUPONT licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

Photo by Bernard DUPONT licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

The fuzzier the plant looks, the drier the habitat it can tolerate. Take, for instance, one of the fuzziest air plants - Tillandsia tectorum. This species hails from extremely arid environments in the high elevation regions of Ecuador and Peru. This species mainly relies on passing clouds and fog for its moisture needs and thus requires lots of surface area to collect said water. Now contrast that with a species like Tillandsia bulbosa, which appears to have almost no trichome cover. This smoother looking species is native to humid low-land habitats where high humidity and frequent rain provide plenty of opportunities for a drink. 

Photo by Bocabroms licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Photo by Bocabroms licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Absorbing water in this way would appear to have opened up a plethora of habitats for the genus Tillandsia. Air plants are tenacious plants and worthy of our admiration. One could learn a lot from their water savvy ways. 

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

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

Central America - Part 1: Costa Rica

This journey really began back in April. Grad school was coming to a close and our move to Illinois was scheduled for August. A celebration was in order. Other than a brief exploration of a Caribbean island and a few visits to Florida, I have never really experienced anything remotely tropical. Through documentaries and an obsession with houseplants that borders on hoarding, I developed a longing for the equatorial rainforests of the world. It was high time I visited some. 

We managed to find ourselves some cheap tickets into Costa Rica. My friend and horticultural mentor, Dave Janas, had taken a job at the Wilson Botanical Garden in San Vito. I could not think of a better person to introduce us to the flora and fauna of this region. With our flights set we now had something to day dream about for the next few months. 

In no time at all the day had arrived. We hopped on a plane in Buffalo, NY and in less than half a day we had landed in San Jose, Costa Rica. All we had were our backpacks and some cash. No matter how much you read and prepare there is always going to be some culture shock. This was especially true in my case. I had been to Portugal as a kid, though I hardly remember most of it. Other than Canada and the Caribbean, I have not traveled much outside of the country. I was ready for something new and challenging but very little sleep and my almost non-existent grasp on Spanish made the first few hours a bit trying. After an awkward cab ride from the airport in San Jose to our hostel in Alajuela, I needed to regroup a bit. 

After a small nap, I was ready to get my bearings. It was time to explore Alajuela a bit. We decided to grab some food and see what the parks were like in town. Getting around town proved to be a slow process - not because of transportation or any sort of infrastructure but because every garden was teaming with plants I have either never seen before or only encountered in the indoor section of a nursery or botanical garden. Poinsettias and palms were obvious favorites. They decorated most open lots. There were also a handful of mango trees dotting the city scape. When we finally arrived at the park, I could barely contain myself. 

It wasn't very big but it was packed. The ground was trampled as well. It was obvious that this was quite a popular place. Most of what was growing there were various palms and each palm was adorned with its fair share of tillandsias. It didn't take long for my ever-present search image to locate a few orchids as well. At this point you may be asking "what species?!" and to that I will say that I haven't the slightest idea. I was quickly realizing just how out of my element I was. Other than some of the more obvious plants that decorate houses and offices up north, most of what I was seeing was completely new to me. This was going to be an exciting trip. Never in my life have I been this ignorant to the plants and animals around me. If this is how the dense urban centers were going to be, I could hardly wait to run off into a real rainforest. That leg of the adventure was to begin at dawn the next day. 

We found a fruit vendor and grabbed some dinner for the evening. It consisted of some granadilla (Passiflora ligularis) and rambutans (Nephelium lappaceum). We sat on a bench and ate all the while a pair of crimson-fronted parakeets were loudly tending to something inside a hole in a dead palm. I had finally done it. I was finally about to explore one of these tropical wonderlands.