Some Magnolia Flowers Have Built-In Heaters

Magnolia denudata. Photo by 阿橋 HQ licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

There are a lot of reasons to like magnolias and floral thermogenesis is one of them. That’s right, the flowers of a surprising amount of magnolia species produce their own heat! Although much more work is needed to understand the mechanisms involved in heat generation in these trees, research suggests that it all centers on pollination.

Magnolias have a deep evolutionary history, having arose on this planet some 95+ million years ago. Earth was a very different place back then. For one, familiar insect pollinators like bees had not evolved yet. As such, the basic anatomy of magnolia flowers was in place long before bees could work as a selective pressure in pollination. What were abundant back then were beetles and it is thought that throughout their history, beetles have served as the dominant pollinators for most species. Indeed, even today, beetles dominate the magnolia pollination scene.

Magnolia sprengeri. Photo by Aleš Smrdel licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

Beetles are generally not visiting flowers for nectar. They are instead after the protein-rich pollen within each anther. It seems that when the anthers are mature, beetles are very willing to spend time munching away within each flower, however, keeping their attention during the female phase of the flower is a bit trickier. Because there are no rewards for visiting a magnolia flower during its female phase, evolution has provided some species with an interesting trick. This is where heat comes in.

Though it varies from species to species, thermogenic magnolias produce combinations of scented oils that various beetles species find irresistible. That is, if they can pick up the odor against the backdrop of all the other enticing scents a forest has to offer. By observing floral development in species like Magnolia sprengeri, researchers have found that as the flowers heat up, the scented oils produced by the flower begin to volatilize. In doing so, the scent is dispersed over a much greater area than it would be without heat.

Magnolia tamaulipana. Photo by James Gaither licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Unlike some other thermogenic plants, heat production in magnolia flowers doesn’t appear to be constant. Instead, flowers experience periodic bursts of heat that can see them reaching temperatures as high as 5°C warmer than ambient temperatures. These peaks in heat production just to happen to coincide with the receptivity of male and female organs. Also, only half of the process is considered an “honest signal” to beetles. During the male phase, the beetles will find plenty of pollen to eat. However, during the female phase, the scent belies the fact that beetles will find no reward at all. This has led to the conclusion that the non-rewarding female phase of the magnolia flower is essentially mimicking the rewarding male phase in order to ensure some cross pollination without wasting any energy on additional rewards.

The timing of heat production also changes depending on the species of beetle and their feeding habits. For species like the aforementioned M. sprengeri, which is pollinated by beetles that are active during the day, heat and scent production only occur when the sun is up. Alternatively, for species like M. tamaulipana whose beetle pollinators are nocturnal, heat and scent production only occur at night. Researchers also think that seasonal climate plays a role as well, suggesting that heat itself may be its own form of pollinator reward in some species. Many of the thermogenic magnolias bloom in the early spring when temperatures are relatively low. It is likely that, aside from pollen, beetles may also be seeking a warm spot to rest.

Personally, I was surprised to learn just how many different magnolias are capable of producing heat in their flowers. When I first learned of this phenomenon, I thought it was unique to M. sprengeri but I was wrong. We still have a lot to learn about this process but research like this just goes to show you that even familiar genera can hold many surprises for those curious enough to seek them out.

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

A Shout Out to Western Skunk Cabbage

Photo by Martin Bravenboer licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0.

We all have our biases and one of my biggest botanical bias is that I often think of plants from eastern North America before my mind heads further west. I can’t really fault myself for it because so many of my early plant experiences occurred east of the Mississippi. I want to remedy this a bit today by drawing your attention to a wonderful aroid who frequently gets overshadowed by its eastern cousin.

I am of course talking about western skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus). This incredibly beautiful plant enjoys a distribution that ranges from southern Alaska to central California and west into Wyoming and Montana. Like its eastern cousin, western skunk cabbage was awarded its common name thanks to the pungent odor it produces. Its blooming period ranges from March into May depending on where they are growing and the inflorescence is truly something to write home about.

The spadix of western skunk cabbage complete with a tiny rove beetle pollinator. Photo by Walter Siegmund lincensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Emerging from the base of the plant is a bright yellow structure called a spathe. The spathe envelopes the actual flowering parts, a phallic-looking structure covered in flowers called a spadix. The spadix emits various volatile compounds that function as pollinator attractants. However, whereas many would suggest flies are the preferred pollinator, research indicates that a tiny species of rove beetle called Pelecomalium testaceum takes up the bulk of pollination duties for western skunk cabbage throughout much of its range.

The volatile compounds aren’t there to trick the beetles into thinking they are getting some sort of reward. The plant does actually reward the rove beetles with pollen to eat and relatively safe place to mate. We call these types of signals “honest signals” as they act as an honest calling card that signifies rewards are to be had.

A closer look at a Pelecomalium rove beetle. Not sure which species. Photo by Judy Gallagher licensed under CC BY 2.0

Unfortunately, the beauty of western skunk cabbage has seen it enter into novelty garden collections in other temperate regions of the world. In northern Europe, western skunk cabbage has escaped the confines of the garden and is now considered an invasive species in wetlands of that region. Take care to choose you garden plants wisely. Always plant native plants when the option presents itself.

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

Further Reading: [1] [2]

From Herbivore to Pollinator Thanks to a Parasitoid

In the Atlantic forests of Brazil resides a small orchid known scientifically as Dichaea cogniauxiana. Like most plant species, this orchid experiences plenty of pressure from herbivores. It faces rather intense pressures from two species of weevil in the genus Montella. These weevils are new to science and have yet been given full species status. What's more, they don't appear to eat the leaves of D. cogniauxiana. Instead, female weevils lay eggs in the developing fruits and the larvae hatch out and consume the seeds within. In other words, they treat the fruits like a nursery chamber.

This is where this relationship gets interesting. You see, the weevils themselves appear to take matters into their own hands. Instead of waiting to find already pollinated orchids, an event that can be exceedingly rare in these dense forests, these weevils go about pollinating the orchids themselves. Females have been observed picking up orchid pollinia and depositing the pollen onto the stigmas. In this way, they ensure that there will be developing fruits in which they can raise their young.

Left unchecked, the weevil larvae readily consume all of the developing seeds within the pod, an unfortunate blow to the reproductive efforts of this tiny orchid. However, the situation changes when parasitoid wasps enter the mix. The wasps are also looking for a place to rear their young but the wasp larvae do not eat orchid seeds. Instead, the wasps must find juicy weevil larvae in which to lay their eggs. When the wasp larvae hatch out, they eat the weevil larvae from the inside out and this is where things get really interesting.

The wasp larvae develop at a much faster rate than do the weevil larvae. As such, they kill the weevil long before it has a chance to eat all of the orchid seeds. By doing so, the wasp has effectively rescued the orchids reproductive effort. Over a five year period, researchers based out of the University of Campinas found that orchid fruits in which wasp larvae have killed off the weevil larvae produced nearly as many seeds as uninfected fruits. As such, the parasitoid wasps have made effective pollinators out of otherwise destructive herbivorous weevils.

The fact that a third party (in this case a parasitic wasp) can change a herbivore into an effective pollinator is quite remarkable to say the least. It reminds us just how little we know about the intricate ways in which species interact and form communities. The authors note that even though pollination in this case represents selfing and thus reduced genetic diversity, it nonetheless increases the reproductive success of an orchid that naturally experiences low pollination rates to begin with. In the hyper diverse and competitive world of Brazilian rainforests, even self-pollination cab be a boost for this orchid.

Photo Credits: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1]

Everlasting or Seven Years Little

Photo by Andrew massyn licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Common names are a funny thing. Depending on the region, the use, and the culture, one plant can take on many names. In other situations, many different plants can take on a single name. Though it isn't always obvious to those unfamiliar with them, the use of scientific names alleviates these issues by standardizing the naming of things so that anyone, regardless of where they are, knows what they are referring to. That being said, sometimes common names can be entertaining.

Take for instance, plants in the genus Syncarpha. These stunning members of the family Asteraceae are endemic to the fynbos region of the Eastern and Western Cape of South Africa. In appearance they are impossible to miss. In growth habit they have been described as "woody shrublets," forming dense clusters of woody stems covered in a coat of woolly hairs. Sitting atop their meter-high stems are the flower heads.

Each flower head consists of rings of colorful paper-like bracts surrounding a dense cluster of disk flowers. The flowering period of the various species can last for weeks and spans from October, well into January. Numerous beetles can be observed visiting the flowers and often times mating as they feed on pollen. Some of the beetles can be hard to spot as they camouflage quite well atop the central disk. Some authors feel that such beetles are the main pollinators for many species within this genus.

Photo by JonRichfield licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Their mesmerizing floral displays are where their English common name of "everlasting" comes from. Due to the fact that they maintain their shape and color for a long time after being cut and dried, various Syncarpha species have been used quite a bit in the cut flower industry. A name that suggests everlasting longevity stands in stark contrast to their other common name. 

These plants are referred to as "sewejaartjie" in Afrikaans, which roughly translates to "seven years little." Why would these plants be referred to as everlasting by some and relatively ephemeral by others? It turns out, sewejaartjie is a name that has more to do with their ecology than it does their use in the floral industry.

As a whole, the 29 described species of Syncarpha are considered fire ephemerals. The fynbos is known for its fire regime and the plants that call this region home have evolved in response to this fact. Syncarpha are no exception. They flower regularly and produce copious amounts of seed but rarely live for more than 7 years after germination. Also, they do not compete well with any vegetation that is capable of shading them out.

Photo by Andrew massyn licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Instead, Syncarpha invest heavily in seed banking. Seeds can lie dormant in the soil for many years until fires clear the landscape of competing vegetation and release valuable nutrients into the soil. Only then will the seeds germinate. As such, the mature plants don't bother trying to survive intense ground fires. They burn up along with their neighbors, leaving plenty of seed to usher in the next generation.

Research has shown that its not the heat so much as the smoke that breaks seed dormancy in these plants. In fact, numerous experiments using liquid smoke have demonstrated that the seeds are likely triggered by some bio-active chemical within the smoke itself.

So, there you have it. Roughly 29 plants with two common names, each referring back to an interesting aspect of the biology of these plants. Despite their familiarity and relative ease of committing to memory, the common names of various species only get us so far. That's not to say we should abolish the use of common names altogether. Learning about any plant should be an all encompassing endeavor provided you know which plant you are referring to.

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

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

Mighty Magnolias

Magnolias are one of those trees that even the non-botanically minded among us will easily recognize. They are one of the more popular plant groups grown as ornamentals and their symbolism throughout human history is quite interesting. But, for all this attention, few may realize how special magnolias really are. Did you know they they are one of the most ancient flowering plant lineages in existence?

Magnolias first came on to the scene somewhere around 95 million years ago. Although they are not representative of what the earliest flowering plants may have looked like, they do offer us some interesting insights into the evolution of flowers. To start with, the flower bud is enclosed in bracts (modified leaves) instead of more differentiated sepals. The "petals" themselves are not actually petals but tepals, which are also undifferentiated. The most striking aspect of magnolia flower morphology is in the actual reproductive structures themselves.

Magnolias evolved before there were bees. Because of this, the basic structure that makes them unique was in place long before bees could work as a selective pressure in pollination. Beetles are the real pollinators of magnolia flowers. The flowers have a hardened carpel to avoid damage by their gnawing mandibles as the feed. The beetles are after the protein-rich pollen. Because the beetles are interesting in pollen and pollen alone, the flowers mature in a way that ensures cross pollination. The male parts mature first and offer said pollen. The female parts of the flower are second to mature. They produce no reward for the beetles but are instead believed to mimic the male parts, ensuring that the beetles will spend some time exploring and thus effectively pollinating the flowers.

It is pretty neat to think that you don't necessarily have to track down a dawn redwood or a gingko to see a plant that has survived major extinction events. You can find magnolias very close to home with a keen eye. Looking at one, knowing that this is a piece of biology that has worked for millennia, is quite astounding in my opinion.

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