A Recently Discovered Species From Brazil Plants Its Own Seeds

Photo Credit: Alex Popovkin [SOURCE]

Life on the ground is tough in the rainforest. There is ample competition and extremely fast rates of decomposition. Anything that can give a plant an advantage, however slight, can mean the difference between death and survival. For a recently discovered plant, this means planting its own seeds.

Spigelia genuflexa was first described in 2011. It was found in northeastern Brazil in an area known as Bahia. It is a small plant, maxing out around 20 cm in height. In actuality, two growth forms have been recognized, a tall form, which produces flowers at heights of 10-20 cm, and a short form that produces flowers at heights of about 1 cm. It has been placed in the family Loganiaceae, making it a distant cousin of the North American Indian pink. It blooms during the rainy season, throwing up a couple of small white and pink flowers. At this point, no pollinators have been identified and morphological evidence would suggest it most often self fertilizes. Overall it is an adorable little plant.

The coolest aspect of this new species is how it manages seed dispersal. S. genuflexa exhibits an interesting form of reproduction called "geocarpy." In other words, this diminutive species plants its own seeds. After fertilization, the flowering stems start to bend towards the ground. In the tall form, the ripe fruits are deposited on the soil surface. The small form does something a bit different. It doesn't stop once it touches the ground. The stem continues to push the fruits down into the soil. This behavior was only discovered after the plant had been collected. Back in the lab, the researchers noticed the flowering stems ducking down under the moss they were growing in. By doing this, the parent plants are helping their precious seeds avoid predation and the myriad other threats to seed survival, thus giving them a head start on germination.

Photo Credit: Alex Popovkin [SOURCE]

Photo Credit: Alex Popovkin

Further Reading: [1]

Sequential Ripening

Photo by Nicholas A. Tonelli licensed under CC BY 2.0

There are few things better than hiking on a hot summer day and coming across a big patch of ripe blackberries and/or raspberries. If you're anything like me then you promptly gorge yourself on handfuls of these sweet aggregate fruits. However, the genus Rubus never gives its fruit away all at once. Although this may seem like a pain for us humans, there is good reason for it.

The answer to this ripening strategy lies in the seed dispersers. A multitude of animals feed on the fruit of the genus Rubus but by and large the best seed dispersers are birds. Rubus fruits begin to ripen around the time when many birds are beginning to ramp up their food intake to prep for either migration or the long winter to come. Regardless, birds can travel great distances and thus can spread seeds via their droppings wherever they go.

If Rubus were to ripen their fruit all at once, only a handful of birds would make use of the entire seasons reproductive effort. This means that all the seeds of an individual plant would likely fall to the ground in the general vicinity of the parent. By sequentially ripening their fruit, Rubus ensure that their seeds will not only be available for a few weeks to a couple of months, it also ensures that birds, as well as many other animals, will be involved in the distribution of seeds. It's not just the genus Rubus that does this either. Plenty of other berry producing plants ripen their fruitss sequentially. It is a wonderfully successful strategy to persuade mobile organisms to do exactly what the plants require. 

Photo Credit: Nicholas A. Tonelli (http://bit.ly/1q6Gvja)

Further Reading:
http://bit.ly/29ghcwL

Dung Seeds

Midgley, J., White, J., Johnson, S. et al. Faecal mimicry by seeds ensures dispersal by dung beetles. Nature Plants 1, 15141 (2015). https://doi.org/10.1038/nplants.2015.141

Photo by Nicola van Berkel (Nicky vB)

There are a lot of interesting seed dispersal mechanisms out there. It makes sense too because effective seed dispersal is one of the most important factors in a plant's life cycle. It is no wonder then that plants have evolved myriad ways to achieve this. Everything from wind to birds to mammals and even ants have been recruited for this task. Now, thanks to a group of researchers in South Africa, we can add dung beetles to this list.

That's right, dung beetles. These little insects are famous the world over for their dung rolling lifestyle. These industrious beetles are quite numerous and play an important role in the decomposition of feces on the landscape. Without them, the world would be a gross place. They don't do this for us, of course. Instead, dung beetles both consume the dung and lay their eggs on the balls. They are often seen rolling these balls across the landscape until they find the perfect spot to bury it where other dung-feeding animals won't find it. It is this habit that a plant known scientifically as Ceratocaryum argenteum has honed in on.

The seeds of this grass relative are hard and pungent. Researchers questioned why the plant would produce such smelly seeds. After all, the scent would hypothetically make it easier for seed predators to find them. However, the typical seed predators of this region such as birds and rodents show no real interest in them. What's more, when offered seeds directly, rodents only ate seeds in which the tough, smelly coat had been removed. Using cameras, the researchers studied the behavior of these animals time and time again. It was only after viewing hours of video that they made their discovery.

Although they weren't big enough to trip the cameras themselves, incidental footage caught dung beetles checking out the seeds and rolling them away. As it turns out, the scent and appearance (which closely mimics that of antelope dung) tricks the dung beetles into thinking they found the perfect meal. As such, the dung beetles do exactly what the plant needs - they bury the seeds. This is a dead end for the dung beetle. Only after a seed has been buried do they realize that it is both inedible and an unsuitable nursery. Nonetheless, the drive for reproduction is so strong that the plant is able to successfully trick the dung beetles into dispersing their seeds.

Photo Credit: Nicky vB (bit.ly/1WVgs0G) and Nature Plants

Further Reading:
http://www.nature.com/articles/nplants2015141

The Evolution of a Helicopter

Stevenson, Robert A., Dennis Evangelista, and Cindy V. Looy. "When conifers took flight: a biomechanical evaluation of an imperfect evolutionary takeoff." Paleobiology 41.2 (2015): 205-225. [SOURCE]

The whirring helicopter seeds of modern day conifers (as well as a handful of other tree species) are truly marvels of evolution. We humans have yet to top the simple efficiency of this form of locomotion. It is easy to see how such seed anatomy benefits a tree. Instead of plummeting to the ground and struggling under the shade of its parents, winged seeds are often carried great distances by the breeze. Such a dispersal mechanism is so effective that multiple tree lineages have converged on a single asymmetrical wing design of their samaras.  

The key to this type of seed dispersal lies in the movement of the seed in the air. The whirring motion allows the seeds to stay airborne as they are carried away from their cones. It would be all too easy to argue that any intermediate must be doomed to failure. However, this is not the case. A rich collection of 270 million year old fossils discovered in Texas is shining light on how at least one lineage of conifers settled in on this wonderful adaptation for seed dispersal. 

Artists reconstruction of a seed-bearing shoot of Manifera talaris. Drawing by Ivo Duijnstee

Instead of producing one type of winged seed, an ancient species of conifer known scientifically as Manifera talaris produced multiple different samara designs. Some were symmetrical, others were double winged, and still others matched what we would readily recognize as a samara today. It would seem that early conifers were “trying out” many different forms of wind dispersed seed designs. Manifera talaris was alive during the early Permian. At that time, there were not many animals alive (that we are aware of) that could function as seed dispersers for conifers. Instead, these early trees relied on the wind to do the work for them. 

Though these fossils offer a unique window into the evolution of winged seeds, they do not give any indication as to how each seed designs would have performed. For paleobotanist Dr. Cindy Looy, this meant a chance to have a little fun with science. She and her colleagues built functional paper models of each of the samara types represented in the fossils. By attaching the paper wings to comparably sized seeds from an extant conifer, she was able to test the flight performance of each of these samara types. What she found was quite interesting. 

As it turns out, symmetric and asymmetric double-winged seeds performed quite poorly. They fluttered to the ground, barely achieving any rotation. Contrast this with the asymmetric single-winged seeds, which stayed airborne for twice as long as any other samara design. What this research shows is that early conifers were, in a sense, "experimenting" with different samara designs. Those designs that allowed for greater seed dispersal produced more trees that did the same. 

Photo Credit: Dr. Cindy Looy

Further Reading: [1]

Mayapple

All across eastern North America, one of my all time favorite wildflowers is coming into bloom. Looking like some sort of strange, tropical umbrella, mayapple (Podophyllum peltatum) is more easily recognizable by its overall appearance than its flowers. However, bend down and take a look under any plant with two leaves and you will be rewarded by one heck of a bloom. 

At home in the family Berberidaceae, the genus Podophyllum is predominantly Asian. Mayapple is the only species within this genus found anywhere else in the world. Mayapples exhibit two forms of reproduction, rhizomatous and sexual. When you see a great big stand of mayapple in the forest, there is a good chance they are all genetically identical. The rhizomes spread out underground, throwing up new plants as they go. This method of asexual reproduction has interesting implications for how this plant reproduces sexually. 

Mayapples will not self-pollinate. They need to cross with a genetically different individual for proper seed set. This can be troublesome in that mayapple flowers do not produce nectar and bees quickly become savvy to this and are less likely to visit multiple different patches of flowering mayapples consecutively. This is where neighboring flowers come into play. Research has shown that mayapples patches growing near flowering plants that do offer rewards to pollinators are significantly more likely to be pollinated themselves. Apparently bees aren’t as dissuaded by mayapples ruse when there are plenty of other meals to be had.

For mayapples, flowering brings with it an additional set of challenges. It takes a lot of energy to produce flowers, fruits, and seeds. Research has also demonstrated that flowering and fruit production in mayapples significantly decreases the chances of flowering in the future and significantly increases the likelihood of the plants demise. Still, enough plants survive long enough to flower multiple times throughout their life. 

Photo by Nicholas A. Tonelli licensed under CC BY 2.0

Mayapples, as the common name suggests, produce rather large fruit that turns a bright yellow when ripe. This is the only time in which consuming a piece of mayapple is safe as this species is highly toxic. This does not seem to deter other animals though. In my experience, fruits are short lived on the plant, quickly being gobbled up by raccoons and the like. The most interesting aspect of mayapple ecology to me is that, in at least part of its range, mayapple relies on box turtles as their main seed dispersers. Box turtles relish the fruit and seeds passing through the gut of the turtle are much more likely to germinate. All in all this is a familiar friend that never disappoints. If you are lucky enough to live where mayapples are native, get outside and experience a mayapple bloom for yourself. You will be very glad that you did!

Photo Credits: [2] [3]

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

Echoes of a Glacial Past

Climate change is often talked about in the context of direct effects on species. However, as John Muir so eloquently put it, "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe." In essence, nothing is ever black and white and the research I am writing about today illustrates this fact quite well.

Ants and plants have some very intricate interactions. A multitude of plant species rely on ants as their seed dispersers. Many of these plant species are spring ephemerals that take advantage of the fact that there is little else for ants to eat in the early spring by attaching fatty capsules to their seeds that are very attractive to foraging ant species. We refer to seed dispersal by ants as “myrmecochory.”

There are two big players in the foraging ant communities of eastern North America, the warm adapted Aphaenogaster rudis and the cold adapted Aphaenogaster picea. The cold adapted A. picea emerges from winter dormancy early in the spring while the warm adapted species emerges from dormancy much later in the spring. In the southern portions of their range, A. rudis outcompetes A. picea.

What is the big deal? Well, the researchers looked at two plant species that rely on these ants for seed dispersal, Hepatica nobilis and Hexastylis arifolia. Hepatica nobilis sets seed early in the spring, relying on ant species like A. picea to disperse its seed whereas Hexastylis arifolia sets seed late in spring, which is prime time for A. rudis. Researchers noticed that, in the southern portions of their range where A. picea had been displaced, Hepatica has a very clumped and patchy growth habit where farther north it did not. Hexastylis on the other hand seemed to have a more normal growth pattern in the south.

By performing some transplanting experiments and examining foraging and seed dispersal, they found that the absence of A. picea in the south spelled ecological disaster for Hepatica. It continues to set seed but because A. rudis emerges long after seed set, it is not filling the gap left by the missing A. picea. Hexastylis, which only grows in the south and sets seed much later, does just fine with the warm adapted A. rudis. Farther north where A. picea still rules, Hepatica has no trouble with seed dispersal but Hexastylis drops out of the ecosystem entirely. In essence, because of warming climate trends since the end of the Pleistocene, Hepatica is falling out of sync with its mutualistic ant partner in the southern portions of its range and, in time, may become extirpated.

Further Reading: [1]

Unlikely Allies

Photo by emmapatsie licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

On the Balearic Islands of Spain, an interesting relationship has developed between a plant and an animal. What's more, this relationship seems to have developed relatively recently in the history of these two species. The players in this story are the dead horse arum (Helicodiceros muscivorus) and an unsuspecting lizard known as Lilford’s wall lizard (Podarcis lilfordi).

Podarcis lilfordi is a lot like other fence lizards. They spend their days basking in the sun’s warmth and hunting for insect prey. They also have a tendency to feed on nectar and pollen, making them important pollinators of a handful of plant species around the island. For the dead horse arum, however, its not about pollination.

Like most members of its family, the dead horse arum relies on trickery for sex. As its common name suggests, the dead horse arum both looks and smells like rotting meat. Unsuspecting flies looking for a meal and a place to lay their eggs find the dead horse arum quite attractive in this regard. The plant even steps up its game a bit by producing its own heat. This helps volatilize its smell as well as to make it a cozy place worth investigating. Studies have found that during the peak flowering period, the inflorescence can be upwards of 24 °C (50 °F) warmer than its surroundings.

Photo by Marina Sanz Biendicho licensed under CC BY 2.0

As one would expect, this has caught the attention of the cold blooded lizards. Enticed by the heat source, lizards basking on the spathe quickly realize that the plant is also a great place to hunt. Flies attracted to and trapped by the flowers make an easy meal. On the surface this would seem counterproductive for the dead horse arum. What good is an animal hanging around that eats its pollinators?

The relationship doesn't end here though. At some point in recent history, a handful of lizards figured out that the seeds of the dead horse arum also make a great meal. This behavior quickly spread through the population to the point that Podarcis lilfordi regularly break open the seed heads and consume the fleshy berries within. Here's the catch, seeds that have passed through a lizards gut are twice as likely to germinate.

Researchers have been studying this interaction since 1999. Since then, the dead horse arum has gone from being relatively rare on the island (~5,000 individuals per hectare) to a density of roughly 30,000 individuals per hectare during the 6 year span of the study! Even though the lizards eat their pollinators, the dead horse arums of Aire Island have nonetheless benefited from interactions with their cold blooded companions.

Sadly, this novel relationship may not last too long. The introduction of cats and rats to the islands has drastically reduced the population of these lizards to the point that the IUCN has listed them as an endangered species. Research will be needed to see if the dead horse arum follows in their wake.

Photo Credit: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1] [2]

Cannonball!

Photo by Joel Abroad licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

There are some trees out there that you probably shouldn't hug. Couroupita guianensis is one such example. You certainly wouldn't want to risk standing at the base of one for any length of time. What looks like a vine covering the trunk of each tree is actually the reproductive structures of this species. Beautiful flowers give way to hefty seed pods, earning this tree its common name, the cannonball tree. 

A native to Central and South America as well as parts of the Caribbean, the distinctive flowers of this tree are born on long stalks that emerge right out of the trunk. This is known as "cauliflory." Trees like this can cause you to do a double take. Indeed, it is strange seeing flowers on a trunk instead of at the tips of branches. It is likely that this type of flowering has evolved as a form of resource partitioning. Instead of vying for pollinators or seed dispersers way up in the canopy, trees like C. guianensis may opt for them at lower levels in the forest where competition may be lower. 

In the case of C. guianensis, the main pollinators are carpenter bees. The peculiar flowers don't produce any nectar, however, they make up for this by offering copious amounts of pollen. The strangest aspect of this is that two different type of pollen are produced. Each flower has two sets of anthers, one set forms a ring around the center of the flower and the other set is located at the tip of the petal that is bent inward forming a hood. What's more, the pollen grains produced by each set differs in appearance with the ring pollen being white and smaller and the hood pollen being yellow and larger. As it turns out, the hood pollen is mostly sterile whereas the ring pollen is fertile. When a bee lands on the hood of the flower looking for pollen, it is attracted to the larger grains. As it harvests pollen from the hood its body is pushed up against the ring pollen, which is carried to the next flower, where the process is repeated and the flower fertilized.

Photo by Mauricio Mercadante licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

After fertilization, large capsules are produced that sort of resemble coconuts or canon balls. Being a member of the Brazil nut family, these capsules can measure upwards of 8 inches in diameter and are chock full of pulp and seeds. Each capsule eventually falls from the tree, cracking open as it smashes into the ground. The capsules can be so large and heavy that anyone unfortunate enough to be standing under one when it fell is likely to be killed by the impact. The pulp inside is said to smell quite awful, which is a attractive to various seed dispersers around the forest.  Peccaries as well as large rodents like the paca eat the seeds, which germinate quite well after passing through their gut. 

Couroupita guianensis has been planted far outside of its natural range for a variety of reasons. It is likely that anyone visiting a botanical garden in the tropics will come across one of these odd trees. Any gardener worth their weight would do well to keep this tree away from footpaths. This is a species best admired from a distance. Aside from avoiding a head crushing blow from one of those seed capsules, this is a tree that must be seen in its entirety to truly appreciate. 

Photo Credits: [1] [2]

Further Reading: [1] [2]