The Future of New Zealand's Shrubby Tororaro Lies in Cultivation

Photo by Jon Sullivan licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

I was watching a gardening show hosted by one of my favorite gardeners, Carol Klein, when she introduced viewers to a beautiful, divaricating shrub whose branching structure looked like a dense tracery of orange twigs. She referred to the shrub as a wiggy wig and remarked on its beauty and form before moving on to another wonderful plant. I was taken aback by the structure of the shrub and had to learn more. Certainly its form had to be the result of delicate pruning and selective breeding. Imagine my surprise when I found its growth habit was inherent to this wonderful and rare species.

The wiggy wig or shrubby tororaro is known to science as Muehlenbeckia astonii. It is a member of the buckwheat family (Polygonaceae) endemic to grey scrub habitats of eastern New Zealand. Though this species is widely cultivated for its unique appearance, the shrubby tororaro is not faring well in the wild. For reasons I will cover in a bit, this unique shrub is considered endangered. To understand some of these threats as well as what it will take to bring it back from the brink, we must first take a closer look at its ecology.

Photo by WJV&DB licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

As mentioned, the shrubby tororaro is endemic to grey scrub habitats of eastern New Zealand. It is a long lived species, with individuals living upwards of 80 years inder the right conditions. Because its habitat is rather dry, the shrubby tororaro grows a deep taproot that allows it to access water deep within the soil. That is not to say that it doesn’t have to worry about drought. Indeed, the shrubby tororaro also has a deciduous habit, dropping most if not all of its tiny, heart-shaped leaves when conditions become too dry. During the wetter winter months, its divaricating twigs become bathed in tiny, cream colored flowers that are very reminiscent of the buckwheat family. From a reproductive standpoint, its flowers are quite interesting.

The shrubby tororaro is gynodioecious, which means individual shrubs produce either only female flowers or what is referred to as ‘inconstant male flowers.’ Essentially what this means is that certain individuals will produce some perfect flowers that have functional male and female parts. This reproductive strategy is thought to increase the chances of cross pollination among unrelated individuals when populations are large enough. Following successful pollination, the remaining tepals begin to swell and surround the hard nut at the center, forming a lovely translucent fruit-like structure that entices dispersal by birds. As interesting and effective as this reproductive strategy can be in healthy populations, the shrubby tororaro’s gynodioecious habit starts to break down as its numbers decrease in the wild.

Photo by Jon Sullivan licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

As New Zealand was colonized, lowland habitats like the grey scrub were among the first to be converted to agriculture and that trend has not stopped. What grey scrub habitat remains today is highly degraded by intense grazing and invasive species. Habitat loss has been disastrous for the shrubby tororaro and its neighbors. Though this shrub was likely never common, today only a few widely scattered populations remain and most of these are located on private property, which make regular monitoring and protection difficult.

Observations made within remnant populations indicate that very little reproduction occurs anymore. Either populations are comprised of entirely female individuals or the few inconstant males that are produced are too widely spaced for pollination to occur. Even when a crop of viable seeds are produced, seedlings rarely find the proper conditions needed to germinate and grow. Invasive grasses and other plants shade them out and invasive insects and rodents consume the few that manage to make it to the seedling stage. Without intervention, this species will likely go extinct in the wild in the coming decades.

Photo by John Pons licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

Luckily, conservation measures are well underway and they involve cultivation by scientists and gardeners alike. There is a reason this shrub has become very popular among gardeners - it is relatively easy to grow and propagate. From hardwood cuttings taken in winter, the shrubby tororaro will readily root and grow into a clone of the parent plant. Not only has this aided in spreading the plant among gardeners, it has also allowed conservationists to preserve and bolster much of the genetic diversity within remaining wild populations. By cloning, growing, and distributing individuals among various living collections, conservationists have at least safeguarded many of the remaining individuals.

Moreover, cultivation on this scale means dwindling wild populations can be supplemented with unrelated individuals that produce both kinds of flowers. By increasing the numbers within each population, conservationists are also decreasing the distances between female and inconstant male individuals, which means more chances for pollination and seed production. Though by no means out of the proverbial woods yet, the shrubby tororaro’s future in the wild is looking a bit brighter.

This is good news for biodiversity of the region as well. After all, the shrubby tororaro does not exist in a vacuum. Numerous other organisms rely on this shrub for their survival. Birds feed heavily on its fruits and disperse its seeds while the larvae of at least a handful of moths feed on its foliage. In fact, the larvae of a few moths utilize the shrubby tororaro as their sole food source. Without it, these moths would perish as well. Of course, those larvae also serve as food for birds and lizards. Needless to say, saving the shrubby tororaro benefits far more than just the plant itself. Certainly more work is needed to restore shrubby tororaro habitat but in the meantime, cultivation is ensuring this species will persist into the future.

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

A Rare Succulent Member of the Milkweed Family

Photo by: Gennaro Re

Across nearly every ecosystem on Earth, biodiversity tends to follow a pattern in which there are a small handful of very common species and many, many more rare species. It would seem our knowledge of plants follows a similar pattern; we know a lot about a small group of species and very little to nothing about most others. Take, for example, a succulent relative of the milkweeds known to science as Whitesloanea crassa. Despite its occurrence in specialist succulent plant collections, we know next to nothing about the natural history of this species or if it even still exists in the wild at all.

Without flowers, one would be hard pressed to place this odd succulent within a family. Even when in bloom, proper analysis of its taxonomic affinity requires a close inspection of the floral morphology. What W. crassa exhibits is a highly derived morphology well-adapted to its xeric environment. Native to Somalia, it was said to grow on bare ground and its appearance supposedly matches the rocks that dominate its desert habitat. Never producing leaves or branches, the main body of W. crassa consists of a succulent, quadrangular stem that slowly grows upwards as it ages.

Flowers are produced in a dense inflorescence, which is most often situated near the base of the plant. Each flower is very showy at maturity, consisting of a fleshy, fused, 5-lobed corolla decorated in shades of pink and red. As far as I can tell, this is not one of stinkier members of the family. Though I have found pictures of flowers crawling with maggots, most growers fail to comment on any strong odors. In fact, aside from limited care instructions, detailed descriptions of the plant represent the bulk of the scientific information available on this odd species.

Maggots crawling around inside the flowers indicates this species mimics carrion as its pollination mechanism. Photo by: Flavio Agrosi

As I mentioned, it is hard to say whether this species still exists in the wild or not. The original mention of this plant in the literature dates back to 1914. A small population of W. crassa was found in northern Somalia and a few individuals were shipped overseas where they didn’t really make much of an impact on botanists or growers at that time. It would be another 21 years before this plant would receive any additional scientific attention. Attempts to relocate that original population failed but thanks to a handful of cultivated specimens that had finally flowered, W. crassa was given a proper description in 1935. After that time, W. crassa once again slipped back into the world of horticultural obscurity.

A few decades later, two additional trips were made to try and locate additional W. crassa populations. Botanical expeditions to Somalia in 1957 and again in 1986 did manage to locate a few populations of this succulent and it is likely that most of the plants growing in cultivation today are descended from collections made during those periods. However, trying to find any current information on the status of this plant ends there. Some say it has gone extinct, yet another species lost to over-collection and agriculture. Others claim that populations still exist but their whereabouts are kept as a closely guarded secret by locals. Though such claims are largely unsubstantiated, I certainly hope the latter is true and the former is not.

Photo by: Flavio Agrosi

Our knowledge of W. crassa is thus restricted to what we can garner from cultivated specimens. It is interesting to think of how much about this species will remain a mystery simply because we have been unable to observe it in the wild. Despite these limitations, cultivation has nonetheless provided brief windows into it’s evolutionary history. Because of its rock-like appearance, it was assumed that W. crassa was related to the similar-looking members of the genus Pseudolithos. However, genetic analysis indicates that it is not all that closely related to this genus. Instead, W. crassa shares a much closer relationship to Huernia and Duvalia.

This is where the story ends unfortunately. Occasionally one can find cultivated individuals for sale and when you do, they are usually attached to a decent price tag. Those lucky enough to grow this species successfully seem to hold it in high esteem. If you are lucky enough to own one of these plants or to have at least laid eyes on one in person, cherish the experience. Also, consider sharing said experiences on the web. The more information we have on mysterious species like W. crassa, the better the future will be for species like this. With any luck, populations of this plant still exist in the wild, their locations known only to those who live nearby, and maybe one day a lucky scientist will finally get the chance to study its ecology a little bit better.

Photo Credits: [1] & Flavio Agrosi [2] [3] [4]

Further Reading: [1] [2]

Dwarf Sumac: North America's Rarest Rhus

James Henderson, Golden Delight Honey, Bugwood.org.

In honor of my conversation with Anacardiaceae specialist, Dr. Susan Pell, I wanted to dedicate some time to looking at a member of this family that is in desperate need of more attention. I would like you to meet the dwarf sumac (Rhus michauxii). Found only in a few scattered locations throughout the Coastal Plain and Piedmont regions of southeastern North America, this small tree is growing increasingly rare.

Dwarf sumac is a small species, with most individuals maxing out around 1 - 3 feet (30.5 – 91 cm) in height. It produces compound fuzzy leaves with wonderfully serrated leaflets. It flowers throughout early and mid-summer, with individuals producing an upright inflorescence that is characteristic of what one might expect from the genus Rhus. Dwarf sumac is dioecious, meaning individual plants produce either male or female flowers. Also, like many of its cousins, dwarf sumac is highly clonal, sending out runners in all directions that grow into clones of the original. The end result of this habit is large populations comprised of a single genetic individual producing only one type of flower.

Current range of dwarf sumac (Rhus michauxii). Green indicates native presence in state, Yellow indicates present in county but rare, and Orange indicates historical occurrence that has since been extirpated. [SOURCE]

Research indicates that the pygmy sumac was likely never wide spread or common throughout its range. Its dependence on specific soil conditions (namely sandy or rocky, basic soils) and just the right amount of disturbance mean it is pretty picky as to where it can thrive. However, humans have pushed this species far beyond natural tolerances. A combination of agriculture, development, and fire sequestration have all but eliminated most of its historical occurrences.

Today, the remaining dwarf sumac populations are few and far between. Its habit of clonal spread complicates matters even more because remaining populations are largely comprised of clonal offshoots of single individuals that are either male or female, making sexual reproduction almost non-existent in most cases. Also, aside from outright destruction, a lack of fire has also been disastrous for the species. Dwarf sumac requires fairly open habitat to thrive and without regular fires, it is readily out-competed by surrounding vegetation.

A female infructescence. Photo by Alan Cressler

Luckily, dwarf sumac has gotten enough attention to earn it protected status as a federally listed endangered species. However, this doesn’t mean all is well in dwarf sumac land. Lack of funding and overall interest in this species means monitoring of existing populations is infrequent and often done on a volunteer basis. At least one study pointed out that some of the few remaining populations have only been monitored once, which means it is anyone’s guess as to their current status or whether they still exist at all. Some studies also indicate that dwarf sumac is capable of hybridizing with related species such as whinged sumac (Rhus copallinum).

Another complicating factor is that some populations occur in some surprisingly rundown places that can make conservation difficult. Because dwarf sumac relies on disturbance to keep competing vegetation at bay, some populations now exist along highway rights-of way, roadsides, and along the edges of artificially maintained clearings. While this is good news for current population numbers, ensuring that these populations are looked after and maintained is a difficult task when interests outside of conservation are involved.

Some of the best work being done to protect this species involves propagation and restoration. Though still limited in its scope and success, out-planting into new location in addition to augmenting existing populations offers hope of at least slowing dwarf sumac decline in the wild. Special attention has been given to planting genetically distinct male and female plants into existing clonal populations in hopes of increasing pollination and seed set. Though it is too early to count these few attempts as true successes, they do offer a glimmer of hope. Other conservation attempts involve protecting what little habitat remains for this species and encouraging better land management via prescribed burns and invasive species removal.

The future for dwarf sumac remains uncertain, but that doesn’t mean all hope is lost. With more attention and research, this species just may be saved from total destruction. The plight of species like the dwarf sumac serve as an important reminder of why both habitat conservation and restoration are so important for slowing biodiversity loss.

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

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3]James Henderson, Golden Delight Honey, Bugwood.org.

Mysterious Franklinia

Photo by Tom Potterfield licensed by CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

In 1765, a pair of botanists, John and William Bartram, observed "several very curious shrubs" growing in one small area along the banks of the Altamaha River in what is now Georgia. Again in 1773, William Bartram returned to this same area. He reported that he "was greatly delighted at the appearance of two beautiful shrubs in all their blooming graces. One of them appeared to be a species of Gordonia, but the flowers are larger, and more fragrant than those of the Gordonia lasianthus.” The species Bartram was referring to was not a Gordonia, but rather a unique species in a genus all of its own. After years of study, Bartram would name the plant in honor of a close family friend, Benjamin Franklin.

This tree is none other than the Franklin tree - Franklinia alatamaha. This beautiful member of the tea family (Theaceae) is unique in that it no longer exists outside of cultivation. It is completely extinct in the wild. However, this is not a recent extinction brought on by the industrialization of North America. IT would seem that Franklinia was nearing extinction before Europeans ever made it to North America. As Bartram first noted "We never saw it grow in any other place, nor have I ever since seen it growing wild, in all my travels, from Pennsylvania to Point Coupe, on the banks of the Mississippi, which must be allowed a very singular and unaccountable circumstance; at this place there are two or 3 acres of ground where it grows plentifully." Indeed, no reports of this species came from anywhere other than that two to three acre section of land on he banks of the Altamaha River. The last confirmed sighting of Franklinia in the wild was in 1790.

Photo by Krzysztof Ziarnek, Kenraiz licensed by CC BY-SA 4.0

What happened to Franklinia? The truth is, no one really knows. Many theories have been put forth to try to explain the disappearance of this unique shrub. What can be agreed on at this point is that Franklinia was probably mostly extinct by the time Europeans arrived. One thought is that it was a northern species that "escaped" glaciation thanks to a few scattered populations in southeastern North America. Indeed, it has been well documented that plants grown in the northern US fare a lot better than those grown in the south. It is thought that perhaps Franklinia was not well adapted to the hot southern climate and slowly dwindled in numbers before it had a chance to expand its range back north after the glaciers retreated.

Others blame early botanists for collecting this already rare species out of existence. What few trees may have remained could easily have been whipped out by a stochastic event like a flood or fire. Another possibility is that habitat loss from Indigenous and subsequent European settlement coupled with disease introduced via cotton farming proved too much for a small, genetically shallow population to handle. In my opinion, it was probably the combination of all of these factors that lead to the extinction of Franklinia in the wild.

Photo by Tony Rodd licensed by CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Anyone growing this tree may notice some funny aspects of its ecology. For instance, it blooms in September, which is a lot later than most North American flowering tree species. Also, the fruits take a long time to mature, needing 13 - 15 months on the tree to be viable. The combination of these strange quirks of Franklinia biology as well as its inability to handle drought (a condition quite common in its only known natural range in Georgia), lends credence to the glacial retreat theory.

We do owe Bartram though. Without him, this species may have disappeared entirely. During his expeditions to Georgia, he collected a few seeds from that Franklinia population. Any Franklinia trees growing in gardens today are direct descendants of those original collections. Franklinia is yet another plant species kept alive by cultivation. Without its addition to gardens all over the country, this species would have been lost forever, living on in our minds as illustrations and herbarium specimens.

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

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

Encounters With a Rare White-Topped Carnivore

I am not a list maker. Never have been and never will be. That being said, there are always going to be certain plants that I feel I need to see in the wild before I die. The white-topped pitcher plant (Sarracenia leucophylla) was one such plant.

I will never forget the first time I laid eyes on one of these plants. It was at a carnivorous plant club meeting in which the theme had been “show and tell.” Local growers were proudly showcasing select plants from their collections and it was a great introduction to many groups which, at the time, I was unfamiliar with. Such was the case for the taller pitcher plants in the genus Sarracenia. Up until that point, I had only ever encountered the squat purple pitcher plant (S. purpurea).

I rounded the corner to a row of display tables and was greeted with a line of stunning botanical pitfall traps. Nestled in among the greens, reds, and yellows was a single pot full of tremendously white, green, and red pitcher plants. I picked my jaw up off the floor and inquired. This was the first time I had seen Sarracenia leucophylla. At that point I knew I had to see such a beauty in the wild.

More like white and red top…

It would be nearly a decade before that dream came true. On my recent trip to the Florida panhandle, I learned that there may be a chance to see this species in situ. Needless to say, this plant nerd was feeling pretty ecstatic. Between survey sites, we pulled down a long road and parked our vehicle. I could tell that there was a large clearing just beyond the ditch, on the other side of the trees.

The clearing turned out to be an old logging site. Apparently the site was not damaged too severely during the process as the plant diversity was pretty impressive. We put on our boots and slogged our way down an old two track nearly knee deep in dark, tanic water. All around us we could see amazing species of Sabatia, Lycopodiella, Drosera, and so much more. We didn’t walk far before something white caught my eye.

There to the left of me was a small patch of S. leucophylla. I had a hard time keeping it together. I wanted to jump up and down, run around, and let off all of the excited energy that had built up that morning. I decided to reign it in, however, as I had to be extra careful not to trample any of the other incredible plants growing near by. It is always sad to see the complete disregard even seasoned botanists have for plants that are unlucky enough to be growing next door to a species deemed “more exciting,” but I digress.

Sarracenia leucophylla flower. Photo by Noah Elhardt licensed by GNU Free Documentation License [SOURCE]

This was truly a moment I needed to savor. I took a few pictures and then put my camera away to simply enjoyed being in the presence of such an evolutionary marvel. If you know how pitcher plants work then you will be familiar with S. leucophylla. Its brightly colored pitchers are pitfall traps. Insects lured in by the bright colors, sweet smell, and tasty extrafloral nectar eventually lose their footing and fall down into the mouth of the pitcher. Once they have passed the rim, escape is unlikely. Downward pointing hairs and slippery walls ensure that few, if any, insects can crawl back out.

What makes this species so precious (other than its amazing appearance) is just how rare it has become. Sarracenia leucophylla is a poster child for the impact humans are having on this entire ecosystem. It can only be found in a few scattered locations along the Gulf Coast of North America. The main threat to this species is, of course, loss of habitat.

A large conservation population growing ex situ at the Atlanta Botanical Garden.

Southeastern North America has seen an explosion in its human population over the last few decades and that has come at great cost to wild spaces. Destruction from human development, agriculture, and timber production have seen much of its wetland habitats disappear. What is left has been severely degraded by a loss of fire. Fires act as a sort of reset button on the vegetation dynamics of fire-prone habitats by clearing the area of vegetation. Without fires, species like S. leucophylla are quickly out-competed by more aggressive plants, especially woody shrubs like titi (Cyrilla racemiflora).

Another major threat to this species is poaching, though the main reasons may surprise you. Though S. leucophylla is a highly sought-after species by carnivorous plant growers, its ease of propagation means seed grown plants are usually readily available. That is not to say poaching for the plant trade doesn’t happen. It does and the locations of wild populations are best kept secret.

Sarracenia leucophylla habitat. Photo by Brad Adler licensed by CC BY-SA 2.5 [SOURCE]

The main issue with poaching involves the cut flower trade. Florists looking to add something exotic to their floral displays have taken to using the brightly colored pitchers of various Sarracenia species. One or two pitchers from a population probably doesn’t hurt the plants very much but reports of entire populations having their pitchers removed are not uncommon to hear about. It is important to realize that not only do the pitchers provide these plants with much-needed nutrients, they are also the main photosynthetic organs. Without them, plants will starve and die.

I think at this point my reasons for excitement are pretty obvious. Wandering around we found a handful more plants and a few even had ripening seed pods. By far the coolest part of the encounter came when I noticed a couple damaged pitchers. I bent down and noticed that they had holes chewed out of the pitcher walls and all were positioned about half way up the pitcher.

I peered down into one of these damaged pitchers and was greeted by two tiny moths. Each moth was yellow with a black head and thick black bands on each wing. A quick internet search revealed that these were very special moths indeed. What we had found was a species of moth called the pitcher plant mining moth (Exyra semicrocea).

An adult pitcher plant mining moth (Exyra semicrocea) sitting within a pitcher!

Amazingly, the lives of these moths are completely tied to the lives of the pitcher plants. Their larvae feed on nothing else. As if seeing this rare plant wasn’t incredible enough, I was witnessing such a wonderfully specific symbiotic relationship right before my very eyes.

Fortunately, the plight of S. leucophylla has not gone unnoticed by conservationists. Lots of attention is being paid to protecting remaining populations, collecting seeds, and reintroducing plants to part of their former range. For instance, it has been estimated that efforts to protect this species by the Atlanta Botanical Garden have safeguarded most of the genetic diversity that remains for S. leucophylla. Outside of direct conservation efforts, many agencies both public and private are bringing fire back into the ecology of these systems. Fires benefit so much more than S. leucophylla. They are restoring the integrity and resiliency of these biodiverse wetland habitats.

LEARN MORE ABOUT WHAT PLACES LIKE THE ATLANTA BOTANICAL GARDEN ARE DOING TO PROTECT IMPORTANT PLANT HABITATS THROUGHOUT THE SOUTHEAST AND MORE.

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

A New Species of Waterfall Specialist Has Been Discovered In Africa

A. habit, whole plant, in fruit, showing the flat root, a pillar-like ‘haptera’, and a shoot with three inflorescences, B. detail of shoot with three branches, C. view of upper surface of a flattened root, with six short, erect shoots, each with 1–2 1-flowered inflorescences emerging from spathellum remains, D. side view of plant showing, on the lower surface of the flattened root, the pillar-like haptera, branched at base; upper surface of root with spathellum-sheathed inflorescence base, E. plant attached to rock by weft of thread-like root hairs (indicated with arrow) from base of pillar-like haptera; upper surface of flattened root with two shoots, F. side view of flower showing one of two tepals in full frontal view, G. as F. with tepal removed, exposing the gynoecium with, to left, the arched-over androecium, H. side view of flower with androecium in centre, two tepals flanking the gynoecium, I. androecium (leftmost of three anthers missing), J. transverse section of andropodium, K. view of gynoecium from above showing funneliform style-stigma base, L. fruit, dehisced, M. transverse section of bilocular fruit, showing septum and placentae, N. placentae with seeds, divided by septum, O. seeds, P. seed with mucilage outer layer. Drawn by Andrew Brown from Lebbie A2721 [SOURCE]

At first glance, this odd plant doesn’t look very special. However, it is the first new member of the family Podostemaceae to be found in Africa in over 30 years. It has been given the name Lebbiea grandiflora and it was discovered during a survey to assess the impacts of a proposed hydroelectric dam. By examining the specimen, Kew botanists quickly realized this plant was unique. Sadly, if all goes according to plan, this species may not be long for this world unless something is done to preserve it.

Members of the family Podostemaceae are strange plants. Despite how delicate they look, these plants specialize in growing submersed on rocks in waterfalls, rapids, and other fast flowing bodies of water. They are generally small plants, though some species can grow to lengths of 3 ft. (1 m) or more. The best generalization one can make about this group is that they like clean, fast-flowing water with plenty of available rock surfaces to grow on.

Lebbiea grandiflora certainly fits this description. It is native to a small portion of Sierra Leone and Guinea where it grows on slick rock surfaces only during the wet season. As the dry season approaches and the rivers shrink in size, L. grandiflora quickly sets seed and dies.

As mentioned, the area in which this plant was discovered is slated for the construction of a large hydroelectric dam. The building of this dam will most certainly destroy the entire population of this plant. As soon as water slows, becomes more turbid, and sediments build up, most Podostemaceae simply disappear. Unfortunately, I appears this plant was in trouble even before the dam came into the picture.

As mentioned, Podostemaceae need clean rock surfaces on which to germinate and grow. Without them, the seedlings simply can’t get established. Mining operations further upstream of the Sewa Rapids have been dumping mass quantities of sediment into the river for years. All of this sediment eventually makes it down into L. grandiflora territory and chokes out available germination sites.

Alarmed at the likely extinction of this new species, the Kew team wanted to try and find other populations of L. grandiflora. Amazingly, one other population was found growing in a river near Koukoutamba, Guinea. Sadly, the discovery of this additional population is bitter sweet as the World Bank is apparently backing another hydro-electric dam project on that river as well.

The only hope for the continuation of this species currently will be to (hopefully) find more populations and collect seed to establish ex situ populations both in other rivers as well as in captivity if possible. To date, no successful purposeful seeding of any Podostemaceae has been reported (if you know of any, please speak up!). Currently L. grandiflora has been given “Critically Endangered” status by the IUCN and the botanists responsible for its discovery hope that, coupled with the publication of this new species description, more can be done to protect this small rheophytic herb.

Photo Credit: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1]

How a Conifer May Hold the Key to Kākāpō Recovery

Photo by Department of Conservation licensed under CC BY 2.0

The plight of the kākāpō is a tragedy. Once the third most common bird in New Zealand, this large, flightless parrot has seen its numbers reduced to less than 150. In fact, for a time, it was even thought to be extinct. Today, serious effort has been put forth to try and recover this species from the brink of extinction. It has long been recognized that kākāpō breeding efforts are conspicuously tied to the phenology of certain trees but recent research suggests one in particular may hold the key to survival of the species.

The kākāpō shares its island homes (saving the kākāpō involved moving birds to rat-free islands) with a handful of conifers from the families Podocarpaceae and Araucariaceae. Of these conifers, one species is of particular interest to those concerned with kākāpō breeding - the rimu. Known to science as Dacrydium cupressinum, this evergreen tree represents one of the most important food sources for breeding kākāpō. Before we get to that, however, it is worth getting to know the rimu a bit better.

Rimu are remarkable, albeit slow-growing trees. They are endemic to New Zealand where they make up a considerable portion of the forest canopy. Like many slow-growing species, rimu can live for quite a long time. Before commercial logging moved in, trees of 800 to 900 years of age were not unheard of. Also, they can reach immense sizes. Historical accounts speak of trees that reached 200 ft. (61 m) in height. Today you are more likely to encounter trees in the 60 to 100 ft. (20 to 35 m) range.

The rimu is a dioecious tree, meaning individuals are either male or female. Rimu rely on wind for pollination and female cones can take upwards of 15 months to fully mature following pollination. The rimu is yet another one of those conifers that has converged on fruit-like structures for seed dispersal. As the female cones mature, the scales gradually begin to swell and turn red. Once fully ripened, the fleshy red “fruit” displays one or two black seeds at the tip. Its these “fruits” that have kākāpō researchers so excited.

Photo by Department of Conservation licensed under CC BY 2.0

As mentioned, it is a common observation that kākāpō only tend to breed when trees like the rimu experience reproductive booms. The “fruits” and seeds they produce are an important component of the diets of not only female kākāpō but their developing chicks as well. Because kākāpō are critically endangered, captive breeding is one of the main ways in which conservationists are supplementing numbers in the wild. The problem with breeding kakapo in captivity is that supplemental food doesn’t seem to bring them into proper breeding condition. This is where the rimu “fruits” come in.

Breeding birds desperately need calcium and vitamin D for proper egg production and they seek out diets high in these nutrients. When researchers took a closer look at the “fruits” of the rimu, the kākāpō’s reliance on these trees made a whole lot more sense. It turns out, those fleshy scales surrounding rimu seeds are exceptionally high in not only calcium, but various forms of vitamin D once thought to be produced by animals alone. The nutritional quality of these “fruits” provides a wonderful explanation for why kākāpō reproduction seems to be tied to rimu reproduction. Females can gorge themselves on the “fruits,” which brings them into breeding condition. They also go on to feed these “fruits” to their developing chicks. For a slow growing, flightless parrot, it seems that it only makes sense to breed when this food source is abundant.

Photo by Department of Conservation licensed under CC BY 2.0

Though far from a smoking gun, researchers believe that the rimu is the missing piece of the puzzle in captive kākāpō breeding. If these “fruits” really are the trigger needed to bring female kākāpō into good shape for breeding and raising chicks, this may make breeding kākāpō in captivity that much easier. Captive breeding is the key to the long term survival of these odd yet charismatic, flightless parrots. By ensuring the production and survival of future generations of kākāpō, conservationists may be able to turn this tragedy into a real success story. What’s more, this research underscores the importance of understanding the ecology of the organisms we are desperately trying to save.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Further Reading: [1] [2]

Daffodil Insights

Photo by Amanda Slater licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0

Daffodils seem to be everywhere. Their horticultural popularity means that, for many of us, these plants are among the first flowers we see each spring. Daffodils are so commonplace that it's as if they evolved to live in our gardens and nowhere else. Indeed, daffodils have had a long, long history with human civilization, so much so that it is hard to say when our species first started to cohabitate. Our familiarity with these plants belies an intriguing natural history. What follows is a brief overview of the world of daffodils. 

If you are like me, then you may have gone through most of your life not noticing much difference between garden variety daffodils. Though many of us will be familiar with only a handful of daffodil species and cultivars, these introductions barely scratch the surface. One may be surprised to learn that as of 2008, more than 28,000 daffodil varieties have been named and that number continues to grow each and every year. Even outside of the garden, there is some serious debate over the number of daffodil species, much of this having to do with what constitutes a species in this group.

Narcissus poeticus

As I write this, all daffodils fall under the genus Narcissus. Estimates as to the number of species within Narcissus range from as few as 50 to as many as 80. The genus itself sits within the family Amaryllidaceae and is believed to have originated somewhere between the late Oligocene and early Miocene, some 18 to 30 million years ago. Despite its current global distribution, Narcissus are largely Mediterranean plants, with peak diversity occurring on the Iberian Peninsula. However, thanks to the aforementioned long and complicated history in cultivation, it has become quite difficult to understand the full range of diversity in form and habitat of many species. To understand this, we first need to understand a bit about their reproductive habits.

Much of the evolution of Narcissus seems to center around floral morphology and geographic isolation. More specifically, the length of the floral tube or "corona" and the position of the sexual organs within, dictates just who can effectively pollinate these plants. The corona itself is not made up of petals or sepals but instead, its tube-like appearance is due to a fusion of the stamens into the famous trumpet-like tube we know and love.

Variation in corona shape and size has led to the evolution of three major pollination strategies within this genus. The first form is the daffodil form, whose stigma is situated at the mouth of the corolla, well beyond the 6 anthers. This form is largely pollinated by larger bees. The second form is the paperwhite form, whose stigma is situated more closely to or completely below the anthers at the mouth of the corona. This form is largely pollinated by various Lepidoptera as well as long tongued bees and flies. The third form is the triandrus form, which exhibits three distinct variations on stigma and anther length, all of which are situated deep within the long, narrow corona. The pendant presentation of the flowers in this group is thought to restrict various butterflies and moths from entering the flower in favor of bees.

Narcissus tazetta. Photo by Fanghong licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

The variations on these themes has led to much reproductive isolation among various Narcissus populations. Plants that enable one type of pollinator usually do so at the exclusion of others. Reproductive isolation plus geographic isolation brought on by differences in soil types, habitat types, and altitudinal preferences is thought to have led to a rapid radiation of these plants across the Mediterranean. All of this has gotten extremely complicated ever since humans first took a fancy to these bulbs.

Narcissus cyclamineus. Photo by Francine Riez licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Reproductive isolation is not perfect in these plants and natural hybrid zones do exist where the ranges of two species overlap. However, hybridization is made much easier with the helping hand of humans. Whether via landscape disturbance or direct intervention, human activity has caused an uptick in Narcissus hybridization. For centuries, we have been mixing these plants and moving them around with little to no record as to where they originated. What's more, populations frequently thought of as native are actually nothing more than naturalized individuals from ancient, long-forgotten introductions. For instance, Narcissus populations in places like China, Japan, and even Great Britain originated in this manner.

All of this mixing, matching, and hybridizing lends to some serious difficulty in delineating species boundaries. It would totally be within the bounds of reason to ask if some of the what we think of as species represent true species or simply geographic varieties on the path to further speciation. This, however, is largely speculative and will require much deeper dives into Narcissus phylogenetics.

Narcissus triandrus. Photo by Dave Gough licensed under CC BY 2.0

Despite all of the confusion surrounding accurate Narcissus taxonomy, there are in fact plenty of true species worth getting to know. These range in form and habit far more than one would expect from horticulture. There are large Narcissus and small Narcissus. There are Narcissus with yellow flowers and Narcissus with white flowers. Some species produce upright flowers and some produce pendant flowers. There are even a handful of fall-blooming Narcissus. The variety of this genus is staggering if you are not prepared for it.

Narcissus viridiflorus - a green, fall-blooming daffodil. Photo by A. Barra licensed under CC BY 3.0

After pollination, the various Narcissus employ a seed dispersal strategy that doesn't get talked about enough in reference to this group. Attached to each hard, black seed are fatty structures known as eliasomes. Eliasomes attract ants. Like many spring flowering plant species around the globe, Narcissus utilize ants as seed dispersers. Ants pick up the seeds and bring them back to their nests. They go about removing the eliasomes and then discard the seed. The seed, safely tucked away in a nutrient-rich ant midden, has a much higher chance of germination and survival than if things were left up to simple chance. It remains to be seen whether or not Narcissus obtain similar seed dispersal benefits from ants outside of their native range. Certainly Narcissus populations persist and naturalize readily, however, I am not aware if ants have any part in the matter.

The endangered Narcissus alcaracensis. Photo by José Luis López González licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

Despite their popularity in the garden, many Narcissus are having a hard go of it in the wild. Habitat destruction, climate change, and rampant collecting of wild bulbs are having serious impacts on Narcissus numbers. The IUCN considered at least 5 species to be endangered and a handful of some of the smaller species already thought to be extinct in the wild. In response to some of these issues, protected areas have been established that encompass at least some of the healthy populations that remain for some of these species.

If you are anything like me, you have ignored Narcissus for far too long. Sure, they aren't native to the continent on which I live, and sure, they are one of the most commonly used plants in a garden setting, but every species has a story to tell. I hope that, armed with this new knowledge, you at least take a second look at the Narcissus popping up around your neighborhood. More importantly, I hope this introduction makes you appreciate their wild origins and the fact that we still have much to learn about these plants. I have barely scratched the surface of this genus and there is more more information out there worth perusing. Finally, I hope we can do better for the wild progenitors of our favorite garden plants. They need all the help they can get and unless we start speaking up and working to preserve wild spaces, all that will remain are what we have in our gardens and that is not a future I want to be a part of.

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

An Endangered Iris With An Intriguing Pollination Syndrome

The Golan iris (Iris hermona) is a member of the Oncocyclus section, an elite group of 32 Iris species native to the Fertile Crescent region of southwestern Asia. They are some of the showiest irises on the planet. Sadly, like many others in this section, the Golan iris is in real danger of going extinct.

The Golan iris has a rather limited distribution. Despite being named in honor of Mt. Hermon, it is restricted to the Golan Heights region of northern Israel and southwestern Syria. Part of the confusion stems from the fact that the Golan iris has suffered from a bit of taxonomic uncertainty ever since it was discovered. It is similar in appearance to both I. westii and I. bismarckiana with which it is frequently confused. In fact, some authors still consider I. hermona to be a variety of I. bismarckiana. This has led to some serious issues when trying to assess population numbers. Despite the confusion, there are some important anatomical differences between these plants, including the morphology of their rhizomes and the development of their leaves. Regardless, if these plants are in fact different species, it means their respective numbers in the wild decrease dramatically. 

Photo by Dr. Avishai Teicher Pikiwiki Israel licensed under CC BY 2.5

Like other members of the Oncocyclus group, the Golan iris exhibits an intriguing pollination syndrome with a group of bees in the genus Eucera. Their large, showy flowers may look like a boon for pollinators, however, close observation tells a different story. The Golan iris and its relatives receive surprisingly little attention from most of the potential pollinators in this region.

One reason for their lack of popularity has to do with the rewards (or lack thereof) they offer potential visitors. These irises produce no nectar and very little pollen. Because of this and their showy appearance, most pollinators quickly learn that these plants are not worth the effort. Instead, the only insects that ever pay these large blossoms any attention are male Eucerine bees. These bees aren't looking for food or fragrance, however. Instead, they are looking for a place to rest. 

A Eucerine bee visiting a nectar source. Photo by Gideon Pisanty (Gidip) גדעון פיזנטי • CC BY 3.0

The Oncocyclus irises cannot self pollinate, which makes studying potential pollinators a bit easier. During a 5 year period, researchers noted that male Eucerine bees were the only insects that regularly visited the flowers and only after their visits did the plants set seed. The bees would arrive at the flowers around dusk and poke around until they found one to their liking. At that point they would crawl down into the floral tube and would not leave again until morning. The anatomy of the flower is such that the bees inevitably contact stamen and stigma in the process. Their resting behavior is repeated night after night until the end of the flowering season and in this way pollination is achieved. Researchers now believe that the Golan iris and its relatives are pollinated solely by these sleeping male bees.

Sadly, the status of the Golan iris is rather bleak. As recent as the year 2000, there were an estimated 2,000 Golan irises in the wild. Today that number has been reduced to a meager 350 individuals. Though there is no single smoking gun to explain this precipitous decline, climate change, cattle grazing, poaching, and military activity have exacted a serious toll on this species. Plants are especially vulnerable during drought years. Individuals stressed by the lack of water succumb to increased pressure from insects and other pests. Vineyards have seen an uptick in Golan in recent years as well, gobbling up viable habitat in the process.

Photo by Dr. Avishai Teicher Pikiwiki Israel licensed under CC BY 2.5

It is extremely tragic to note that some of the largest remaining populations of Golan irises can be found growing in active mine fields. It would seem that one of the only safe places for these endangered plants to grow are places that are extremely lethal to humans. It would seem that our propensity for violent tribalism has unwittingly led to the preservation of this species for the time being.

At the very least, some work is being done not only to understand what these plants need in order to germinate and survive, but also assess the viability of relocated plants that are threatened by human development. Attempts at transplanting individuals in the past have been met with limited success but thankfully the Oncocyclus irises have caught the eye of bulb growers around the world. By sharing information on the needs of these plants in cultivation, growers can help expand on efforts to save species like the Golan iris.

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

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

The Pima Pineapple Cactus

The Pima pineapple cactus (Coryphantha robustispina) is a federally endangered cactus native to the Sonoran Desert. It is a relatively small cactus by most standards, a fact that can make it hard to find even with a trained eye. Sadly, the plight of this cactus is shared by myriad other plant species of this arid region. Urbanization, fire, grazing, and illegal collection are an ever present threat thanks to our insatiable need to gobble up habitat we should never have occupied in the first place. 

Deserts are lands of extremes and the Pima pineapple cactus seems ready for whatever its habitat can throw its way (naturally). Plants are usually found growing individually but older specimens can take on a clustered clonal habit. During the winter months, the Pima pineapple cactus shrivels up and waits until warmth returns. Come spring, the Pima pineapple cactus begins anew. On mature specimens, flower buds begin to develop once the plant senses an increase in daylight. 

Photo by Johnida Dockens licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

The flower buds continue to develop well into summer but seem to stop after a certain point. Then, with the onset of the summer monsoons, flower buds quickly mature and open all at once. It is thought that this evolved as a means of synchronizing reproductive events among widely spaced populations. You see, seed set in this species is best achieved via cross pollination. With such low numbers and a lot of empty space in between, these cacti must maximize the chances of cross pollination.

If they were to flower asynchronously, the chances of an insect finding its way to two different individuals is low. By flowering together in unison, the chances of cross pollination are greatly increased. No one is quite sure exactly how these cacti manage to coordinate these mass flowering events but one line of reasoning suggests that the onset of the monsoon has something to do with it. It is possible that as plants start to take up much needed water, this triggers the dormant flower buds to kick into high gear and finish their development. More work is needed to say for sure.

Seed dispersal for this species comes in the form of a species of hare called the antelope jackrabbit. Jackrabbits consume Pima fruits and disperse them across the landscape as they hop around. However, seed dispersal is just one part of the reproductive process. In order to germinate and survive, Pima pineapple cacti seeds need to end up in the right kind of habitat. Research has shown that the highest germination and survival rates occur only when there is enough water around to fuel those early months of growth. As such, years of drought can mean years of no reproduction for the Pima.

Taken together, it is no wonder then why the Pima pineapple cactus is in such bad shape. Populations can take years to recover if they even manage to at all. Sadly, humans have altered their habitat to such a degree that serious action will be needed to bring this species back from the brink of extinction. Aside from the usual suspects like habitat fragmentation and destruction, invasive species are playing a considerable role in the loss of Pima populations. 

Lehmann lovegrass (Eragrostis lehmanniana) was introduced to Arizona in the 1930's and it has since spread to cover huge swaths of land. What is most troubling about this grass is that it has significantly altered the fire regime of these desert ecosystems. Whereas there was once very little fuel for fires to burn through, dense stands of Lehmann lovegrass now offer plenty of stuff to burn. Huge, destructive fires can spread across the landscape and the native desert vegetation simply cannot handle the heat. Countless plants are killed by these burns.

Sometimes, if they are lucky, large cacti can resprout following a severe burn, however, all too often they do not. Entire populations can be killed by a single fire. What few plants remain are frequent targets of poaching. Cacti are quite a hit in the plant trade and sadly people will pay big money for rare specimens. The endangered status of the Pima pineapple cactus makes it a prized target for greedy collectors. 

The future of the Pima pineapple cactus is decidedly uncertain. Thankfully its placement on the endangered species list has afforded it a bit more attention from a conservation standpoint. Still, we know very little about this plant and more data are going to be needed if we are to develop sound conservation measures. This, my friends, is why land conservation is so important. Plants like the Pima pineapple cactus need places to grow. If we do not work harder on setting aside wild spaces, we will lose so much more than this species. 

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

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

Saving Bornean Peatlands is a Must For Conservation

Photo by Dukeabruzzi licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

The leading cause of extinction on this planet is loss of habitat. As an ecologist, it pains me to see how frequently this gets ignored. Plants, animals, fungi - literally every organism on this planet needs a place to live. Without habitat, we are forced to pack our flora and fauna into tiny collections in zoos and botanical gardens, completely disembodied from the environment that shaped them into what we know and love today. That’s not to say that zoos and botanical gardens don’t play critically important roles in conservation, however, if we are going to stave off total ecological meltdown, we must also be setting aside swaths of wild lands.

There is no way around it. We cannot have our cake and eat it too. Land conservation must be a priority both at the local and the global scale. Wild spaces support life. They buffer life from storms and minimize the impacts of deadly diseases. Healthy habitats filter the water we drink and, for many people around the globe, provide much of the food we eat. Every one of us can think back to our childhood and remember a favorite stretch of stream, meadow, or forest that has since been gobbled up by a housing development. For me it was a forested stream where I learned to love the natural world. I would spend hours playing in the creek, climbing trees, and capturing bugs to show my parents. Since that time, someone leveled the forest, built a house, and planted a lawn. With that patch of forest went all of the insects, birds, and wildflowers it once supported.

Scenarios like this play out all too often and sadly on a much larger scale than a backyard. Globally, forests have taken the brunt of human development. It is hard to get a sense of the scope of deforestation on a global scale, but the undisputed leaders in deforestation are Brazil and Indonesia. Though the Amazon gets a lot of press, few may truly grasp the gravity of the situation playing out in Southeast Asia.

Deforestation is a clear and present threat throughout tropical Asia. This region is growing both in its economy and population by about 6% every year and this growth has come at great cost to the environment. Indonesia (alongside Brazil) accounts for 55% of the world’s deforestation rates. This is a gut-wrenching statistic because Indonesia alone is home to the most extensive area of intact rainforest in all of Asia. So far, nearly a quarter of Indonesia’s forests have been cleared. It was estimated that by 2010, 2.3 million hectares of peatland forests had been felled and this number shows little signs of slowing. Experts believe that if these rates continue, this area could lose the remainder of its forests by 2056.

Consider the fact that Southeast Asia contains 6 of the world’s 25 biodiversity hotspots and you can begin to imagine the devastating blow that the levelling of these forests can have. Much of this deforestation is done in the name of agriculture, and of that, palm oil and rubber take the cake. Southeast Asia is responsible for producing 86% of the world’s palm oil and 87% of the world’s natural rubber. What’s more, the companies responsible for these plantations are ranked among some of the least sustainable in the world.

Borneo is home to a bewildering array of life. Researchers working there are constantly finding and describing new species, many of which are found nowhere else in the world. Of the roughly 15,000 plant species known from Borneo, botanists estimate that nearly 5,000 (~34%) of them are endemic. This includes some of the more charismatic plant species such as the beloved carnivorous pitcher plants in the genus Nepenthes. Of these, 50 species have been found growing in Borneo, many of which are only known from single mountain tops.

It has been said that nowhere else in the world has the diversity of orchid species found in Borneo. To date, roughly 3,000 species have been described but many, many more await discovery. For example, since 2007, 51 new species of orchid have been found. Borneo is also home to the largest flower in the world, Rafflesia arnoldii. It, along with its relatives, are parasites, living their entire lives inside of tropical vines. These amazing plants only ever emerge when it is time to flower and flower they do! Their superficial resemblance to a rotting carcass goes much deeper than looks alone. These flowers emit a fetid odor that is proportional to their size, earning them the name “carrion flowers.”

Rafflesia arnoldii in all of its glory. Photo by SofianRafflesia licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0

Photo by Orchi licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

If deforestation wasn’t enough of a threat to these botanical treasures, poachers are having considerable impacts on Bornean botany. The illegal wildlife trade throughout southeast Asia gets a lot of media attention and rightfully so. At the same time, however, the illegal trade of ornamental and medicinal plants has gone largely unnoticed. Much of this is fueled by demands in China and Vietnam for plants considered medicinally valuable. At this point in time, we simply don’t know the extent to which poaching is harming plant populations. One survey found 347 different orchid species were being traded illegally across borders, many of which were considered threatened or endangered. Ever-shrinking forested areas only exacerbate the issue of plant poaching. It is the law of diminishing returns time and time again.

Photo by Orchi licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

But to lump all Bornean forests under the general label of “rainforest” is a bit misleading. Borneo has multitude of forest types and one of the most globally important of these are the peatland forests. Peatlands are vital areas of carbon storage for this planet because they are the result of a lack of decay. Whereas leaves and twigs quickly breakdown in most rainforest situations, plant debris never quite makes it that far in a peatland. Plant materials that fall into a peatland stick around and build up over hundreds and thousands of years. As such, an extremely thick layer of peat is formed. In some areas, this layer can be as much as 20 meters deep! All the carbon tied up in the undecayed plant matter is carbon that isn’t finding its way back into our atmosphere.

Sadly, tropical peatlands like those found in Borneo are facing a multitude of threats. In Indonesia alone, draining, burning, and farming (especially for palm oil) have led to the destruction of 1 million hectares (20%) of peatland habitat in only a single decade. The fires themselves are especially worrisome. For instance, it was estimated that fires set between 1997-1998 and 2002-2003 in order to clear the land for palm oil plantations released 200 million to 1 billion tonnes of carbon into our atmosphere. Considering that 60% of the world’s tropical peatlands are found in the Indo-Malayan region, these numbers are troubling.

The peatlands of Borneo are totally unlike peatlands elsewhere in the world. Instead of mosses, gramminoids, and shrubs, these tropical peatlands are covered in forests. Massive dipterocarp trees dominate the landscape, growing on a spongey mat of peat. What’s more, no water flows into these habitats. They are fed entirely by rain. The spongey nature of the peat mat holds onto water well into the dry season, providing clean, filtered water where it otherwise wouldn’t be available.

Photo by JeremiahsCPs licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

This lack of decay coupled with their extremely acidic nature and near complete saturation makes peat lands difficult places for survival. Still, life has found a way, and Borneo’s peatlands are home to a staggering diversity of plant life. They are so diverse, in fact, that when I asked Dr. Craig Costion, a plant conservation officer for the Rainforest Trust, for something approaching a plant list for an area of peatland known as Rungan River region, he replied:

“Certainly not nor would there ever be one in the conceivable future given the sheer size of the property and the level of diversity in Borneo. There can be as many as a 100 species per acre of trees in Borneo... Certainly a high percentage of the species would only be able to be assigned to a genus then sit in an herbarium for decades until someone describes them.”

And that is quite remarkable when you think about it. When you consider that the Rungan River property is approximately 385,000 acres, the number of plant species to consider quickly becomes overwhelming. To put that in perspective, there are only about 500 tree species native to the whole of Europe! And that’s just considering the trees. Borneo’s peatlands are home to myriad plant species from liverworts, mosses, and ferns, to countless flowering plants like orchids and others. We simply do not know what kind of diversity places like Borneo hold. One could easily spend a week in a place like the Rungan River and walk away with dozens of plant species completely new to science. Losing a tract of forest in such a biodiverse region is a huge blow to global biodiversity.

Nepenthes ampullaria relies on decaying plant material within its pitcher for its nutrient needs. Photo by en:User:NepGrower licensed under Public Domain

Also, consider that all this plant diversity is supporting even more animal diversity. For instance, the high diversity of fruit trees in this region support a population of over 2,000 Bornean orangutans. That is nearly 4% of the entire global population of these great apes. They aren’t alone either, the forested peatlands of Borneo are home to species such as the critically endangered Bornean white-bearded gibbon, the proboscis monkey, the rare flat-headed cat, and the oddly named otter civet. All these animals and more rely on the habitat provided by these forests. Without forests, these animals are no more.

The flat-headed cat, an endemic of Borneo. Photo by Jim Sanderson licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

At this point, many of you may be feeling quite depressed. I know how easy it is to feel like there is nothing you can do to help. Well, what if I told you that there is something you can do right now to save a 385,000 acre chunk of peatland rainforest? That’s right, by heading over to the Rainforest Trust’s website (https://www.rainforesttrust.org/project/saving-stronghold-critically-endangered-bornean-orangutan/) you can donate to their campaign to buy up and protect the Rungan River forest tract.

Click on the logo to learn more!

By donating to the Rainforest Trust, you are doing your part in protecting biodiversity in one of the most biodiverse regions in the world. What’s more, you can rest assured that your money is being used effectively. The Rainforest Trust consistently ranks as one of the top environmental protection charities in the world. Over their nearly three decades of operation, the Rainforest Trust has protected more than 15.7 million acres of land in over 20 countries. Like I said in the beginning, habitat loss is the leading cause of extinction on this planet. Without habitat, we have nothing. Plants are that habitat and by supporting organizations such as the Rainforest Trust, you are doing your part to fight the biggest threats our planet faces. 

Further Reading: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

Photo Credits: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11]

A Bat-Pollinated Passion Flower From Ecuador

[SOURCE]

Say "hello" to one of Passiflora's most recent additions, the bat-pollinated Passiflora unipetala. The first specimens of this vine were discovered back in 2009 by Nathan Muchhala while studying flower visiting bats in northern Ecuador. It is a peculiar member of the genus to say the least. 

One of the most remarkable features of this plant are its flowers. Unlike its multi-petaled cousins, this species stands out in producing a single large petal, which is unique for not only the genus, but the whole family as well. The petal is quite large and resembles a bright yellow roof covering the anthers and stigma. At the base of the flower sits the nectar chamber. The body of the plant consists of a vine that has been observed to grow upwards of 6 meters up into the canopy.

[SOURCE]

Flowering in this species occurs at night. Their large size, irregular funnel shape, and bright yellow coloring all point to a pollination syndrome with bats. Indeed, pollen of this species has been found on the fur of at least three different bat species. Multiple observations (pictured here) of bats visiting the flowers helped to confirm. Oddly enough for a bat-pollinated plant, the flowers produce no detectable odor whatsoever. However, another aspect of its unique floral morphology is worth noting. 

The surface of the flower has an undulating appearance. Also, the sepals themselves have lots of folds and indentations, including lots of dish-shaped pockets. It is thought that these might help the flower support the weight of visiting bats. They may also have special acoustic properties that help the bats locate the flowers via echolocation. Though this must be tested before we can say for sure, other plants have converged on a similar strategy (read here and here).

As it stands currently, Passiflora unipetala is endemic to only a couple high elevation cloud forests in northern Ecuador. It has only ever been found at two locations and sadly a landslide wiped out the type specimen from which the species description was made. As such, its introduction to the world came complete with a spot on the IUCN Redlist as critically endangered. Luckily, the two localities in which this species has been found are located on privately protected properties. Let's just hope more populations are discovered in the not-too-distant future.

Photo Credits: [1] 

Further Reading: [1]

An Orchid of Hybrid Origin

Hybridization is an often overlooked mechanism for evolution. We are taught in high school that hybrids such as mules and ligers are one-off's, evolutionary dead ends doomed to a life of sterility. Certainly this holds true in many instances. Species separated by great lengths of time and space are simply incompatible. However, there are instances throughout the various kingdoms of life in which hybrids do turn out viable.

If they are different enough from either parent, their creation may lead to speciation down the line. Such events have been found in ferns, butterflies, and even birds. One particular example of a hybrid species only recently came to my attention. While touring the Atlanta Botanical Garden I came across a fenced off bed of plants. Inside the fence were orchids standing about knee height. At the top of each plant was a brilliant spike of orange flowers. "Ah," I exclaimed, "the orange fringed orchid!" The reply I got was unexpected - "Sort of."

What I had stumbled across was neither the orange fringed orchid (Platanthera ciliaris) nor the crested yellow orchid (Platanthera cristata). What I was looking at were a small handful of the globally imperiled Chapman's fringed orchid (Platanthera chapmanii). Though there is some debate about the origins of this species, many believe it to be a naturally occurring hybrid of the other two. In many ways it is a perfect intermediate. Despite its possible hybrid origins, it nonetheless produces viable seed. What's more, it readily hybridizes with both parental species as well as a handful of other Platanthera with which it sometimes shares habitat.

Despite occasionally being found along wet roadside ditches, this species is rapidly losing ground. The wet meadows and pine savannas it prefers are all too quickly being leveled for housing and other forms of development. Although it once ranged from southeast Texas to northern Florida, and southeast Georgia, it has since been reduced to less than 1000 individuals scattered among these three states.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel though. Many efforts are being put forth to protect and conserve this lovely orchid. Greenhouse propagation in places like the Atlanta Botanical Garden are helping supplement wild populations while at the same time, maintaining genetic diversity. New populations have been located in Georgia and are now under protection. Though not out of the woods yet, this species serves as a reminder that a little bit of effort can go a long way.

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

The Fall of Corncockle

Photo by Sonnentau licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

This switch from more traditional farming practices to industrialized monocultures has left a damaging legacy on ecosystems around the globe. This is especially true for unwanted plants. Species that once grew in profusion are now sprayed and tilled out of existence. Nowhere has this been better illustrated than for a lovely little plant known commonly as the corncockle (Agrostemma githago). 

This species was once a common weed in European wheat fields. Throughout much of the 19th and early 20th century, it was likely that most wheat sold contained a measurable level of corncockle seed. Its pink flowers would have juxtaposed heavily against the amber hue of grain. Indeed, its habit of associating with wheat has lead to its introduction around the globe. It can now be found growing throughout parts of North America, Australia, and New Zealand. 

However, in its home range of Europe, the corncockle isn't doing so well. The industrialization of farming dealt a huge blow to corncockle ecology. The broad-scale application of herbicides wreaked havoc on corncockle populations. Much more detrimental was the switch to winter wheat, which caused a decoupling between harvest time and seed set for the corncockle. Whereas it once synced quite nicely with regular wheat harvest, winter wheat is harvested before corncockle can set seed. As such, corncockle has become extremely rare throughout its native range and was even thought to be extinct in the UK. 

A discovery in 2014 changed all of that. National Trust assistant ranger Dougie Holden found a single plant flowering near a lighthouse. Extensive use of field guides and keys confirmed that this plant was indeed a corncockle, the first seen blooming in the UK in many decades. It is likely that the sole plant grew from seed churned up by vehicle traffic the season before. 

Photo Credit: sonnentau (bit.ly/1qo3XQK)

Further Reading:
Clapham, A.R., Tutin, T.G. and Warburg, E.F. 1968. Excursion Flora of the British Isles. Cambridge University Press

An Underground Orchid

Photo by Jean and Fred licensed under CC BY 2.0

Are you ready to have your mind blown away? What you are looking at here is not some strange kind of mushroom, though fungus is involved. What you are seeing is actually the inflorescence of a parasitic orchid from Australia that lives and blooms underground!

Meet Rhizanthella gardneri. This strange little orchid is endemic to Western Australia and it lives, blooms, and sets seed entirely underground. It is extremely rare, with only 6 known populations. Fewer than 50 mature plants are known to exist. This is another one of those tricky orchids that does not photosynthesize but, instead, parasitizes a fungus that is mycorrhizal with the broom honey myrtle (Melaleuca uncinata). To date, the orchid has only been found under that specific species of shrub. Because of its incredibly unique requirements, its limited range, and habitat destruction, R. gardneri is critically endangered.

The flowers open up a few centimeters under the soil. They are quite fragrant and it is believed that ants, termites, and beetles are the main pollinators. The resulting seeds take up to 6 months to mature and are quite fleshy. It is hypothesized that some sort of small marsupial eats them and consequently distributes them in its droppings. Either way, the chances of successful sexual reproduction for this species are quite low. Because of this, R. gardneri also reproduces asexually by budding off daughter plants.

Despite not photosynthesizing, this orchid is quite unique in that it still retains chloroplasts in its cells. They are a very stripped down form of chloroplast though, containing about half of the genes a normal chloroplast would. It is the smallest known chloroplast genome on the planet. This offers researchers a unique opportunity to look deeper into how these intracellular relationships function. The remaining chloroplast genes code for 4 essential plant proteins, meaning chloroplasts offer functions beyond just photosynthesis.

I am so amazed by this species. I'm having a hard time keeping my jaw off the ground. What an amazing world we live in. If you would like to see more pictures of R. gardneri, please make sure to check out the following website:
http://www.arkive.org/underground-orchid/rhizanthella-gardneri/

Photo Credit: Jean and Fred Hort

Further Reading:
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2011/02/110208101337.htm

http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2011-02/uowa-wai020711.php

http://www.environment.gov.au/cgi-bin/sprat/public/publicspecies.pl?taxon_id=20109

Plight of the Panda: a bamboo story

Photo by Smithsonian's National Zoo licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

There are few creatures more iconic than the giant panda. These bears are the poster children for conservation movements around the world. Unlike their ursine relatives, pandas have abandoned carnivory for a diet that consists almost entirely of bamboo. In the light of human destruction, specialist lifestyles like the pandas are a risky strategy. It doesn't take much to upset such obligate relationships and humans are quite proficient at doing just that. However, the plight of the giant panda has just as much to do with the ecology of its food source as it does man-made destruction of its habitat.

Essentially giant grasses, the bamboo tribe consists of over 1,400 species worldwide. Not only are bamboo some of the tallest grasses in the world, they are also some of the fastest growing plants. Some have been known to grow 250 cm (90 in) in only 24 hours! As typical with grasses, bamboo can reproduce via underground rhizomes, forming dense stands of clones. Entire forests can be made up of the clones of only a few individuals.

The strangest part of bamboo ecology is that they rarely flower. A typical bamboo will live for 20 to 60 years before flowering, with some species taking well over 100 years. As such, bamboo experiences mast flowering events, with entire bamboo forests flowering all at once. After flowering and setting seed, the bamboo dies. Entire bamboo forests are lost in only a matter of weeks.

There have been many hypotheses put forth to explain this and while each has likely played a role in the evolution of this strategy, these mast flowering and subsequent death of bamboo forests probably serve to ensure the survival of the next generation. If the adults were to live through flowering and seed set, it is likely that the thick canopy of the parents would be too much for young seedlings to overcome. What's more, mass die offs create a significant fuel load for fires to sweep through. However catastrophic a fire may be, it reduces competition for bamboo seedlings.

Before humans fragmented their habitat, giant pandas had no trouble dealing with mass bamboo die offs. They simply migrated to a new bamboo forest. Anymore today, they cannot do that. When a bamboo forest flowers and dies, pandas in that area have nowhere to go. They simply starve to death. Because of this, pandas now occupy a mere fraction of their former range. What intact bamboo forests remain are restricted to the highlands of the Sichuan, Shaanxi, and Gansu provinces.

Despite considerable success in the captive breeding of pandas, there is simply not enough habitat to support their recovery in the wild. Because of this, captive breeding programs have come under harsh criticism. It has been argued that the massive amounts of money spent on captive breeding of pandas could be spent on habitat conservation projects elsewhere. No matter where you stand on the subject, there is no denying that pandas fall under the charismatic megafauna syndrome. They captivate the hearts and minds of people all over the globe. They also encourage the masses to open up their wallets. Sadly, it is probably too late giant pandas in the wild. If anything else, they certainly serve as a stark reminder of the importance of habitat conservation on a large scale.

Photo Credit: Abby Wood, Smithsonian's National Zoo (http://bit.ly/1qDX21K)

Further Reading:

http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/303243?seq=1#page_scan_tab_contents

http://www.completebamboo.com/bamboo_behaviors.html

On Orchids and Fungi

It is no secret that orchids absolutely need fungi. Fungi not only initiate germination of their nearly microscopic seeds, the mycorrhizal relationships they form supplies the fuel needed for seedling development. These mycorrhizal fungi also continue to keep adult orchids alive throughout their lifetime. In other words, without mycorrhizal fungi there are no orchids. Preserving orchids goes far beyond preserving the plant. Despite the importance of these below-ground partners, the requirements of many mycorrhizal fungi are poorly understood.

Researchers from the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center have recently shone some light on the needs of these fungi. Their findings highlight an important concept in ecology - conservation of the system, not just the organism. Their results clearly indicate that orchid conservation requires old, intact forests.

Their experiment was beautifully designed. They added seeds and host fungi to dozens of plots in both young (50 - 70 years old) and old (120-150 years old) forests. They continued to monitor the progress of the seeds over a period of 4 years. Orchid seeds only germinated in plots where their host fungi were added. This, of course, was not very surprising.

The most interesting data they collected was data on fungal performance. As it turns out, the host fungi displayed a marked preference for older forests. In fact, the fungi were 12 times more abundant in these plots. They were even growing in areas where the researchers had not added them. What's more, fungal species were more diverse in older forests.

The researchers also noted that host fungi grew better and were more diverse in plots where rotting wood was added. This is because many mycorrhizal fungi are primarily wood decomposers. Nutrients from the decomposition of this wood are then channeled to growing orchids (as well as countless other plant species) in return for carbohydrates from photosynthesis. It is a wonderful system that functions at its best in mature forests.

This research highlights the need to protect and preserve old growth forests more than ever. Replanting forests is wonderful but it may be centuries before these forests can ever support such a diversity of life. Also, this stands as a stark reminder of the importance of soil conservation. Less obvious to most is the importance of decomposition. Without dead plant material, such fungal communities would have nothing to eat. Clearing a forest of dead wood can be just as detrimental in the long run as clearing it of living trees.

Research like this is made possible by the support of organizations such as the Native North American Orchid Conservation Center. Head on over to www.indefenseofplants.com/shop and pick up an In Defense of Plants sticker. Part of the proceeds are donated to this wonderful organization, which helps support research such as this! As this research highlights: What is good for orchids is good for the ecosystem.

Further Reading:

http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1365-294X.2012.05468.x/abstract;jsessionid=3385C965FF5BA4CB83290005DFD47FD1.f01t02