*Part I* *
Part II* *
Part III* *
Part IV*
A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of accompanying my partner and her family down to the Florida panhandle for a lazy week on the Gulf coast. It felt great to sit around and relax with little to do but bury my nose in a book and relish the never ending supply of fresh seafood. I'd been down to the sunshine state on several occasions as a child but those are all approaching a couple decades ago and well before any legitimate interest or passion for the outdoors had taken root in me. So needless to say this time around had me salivating at the idea of what botanical treasures awaited my arrival. I knew travelling so far south into such a contrasting region from my own would result in countless new life plants and unexpected surprises and I was not disappointed!
I managed to get out and about for two of the days we spent down there and the following few posts are dedicated to the ecosystems and flora/fauna I found most interesting and memorable. Even if I had been able to dedicate every waking moment of my week to exploring the wonders of the central panhandle, I'd still only been able to scratch the surface of the diversity to be had. Regardless, I'm thankful and pleased with what I was able to come across and hope you enjoy this look back at one of the more fascinating botanical forays I've yet experienced.
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| Power line cut full of insectivorous plants |
In the days, weeks leading up to the trip, I sent out requests to my extended botanical family in the south for good sites and places worth a visit while in the area. They came through in marvelous fashion and a majority of their suggestions I had to put on the shelf for the next time around as there was no way I could fit everything into the very finite amount of time available. However, one place I knew I had to prioritize above all else came from Flickr friend and brilliant
botanist/photographer Alan Cressler - you might recall his name from back in May when he was kind enough to share with me the
small whorled pogonia (Isotria medeoloides) in northern Georgia - so of course I was all ears when he had some killer suggestions. The place was called Hosford bog and within was a plant species that I'd only ever dreamed of seeing.
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| Venus fly trap and other insectivorous plant species |
The Venus fly trap (Dionaea muscipula) is a plant of legend and one damn near every single person you talk to would know and/or recognize. It always amazes people to learn this seemingly exotic species only naturally occurs in a small geographic area of North and South Carolina and that is it worldwide. Not the jungles of Borneo, not the Amazon or the depths of the Congo but the good ol' U. S. of A. The fact the hundreds of clumps of insect-eating horror before me weren't indigenous to the site but rather transplants from years ago did nothing to quell my excitement. I'm sure I'll see them on their home turf someday but this would most definitely suffice for now.
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| Venus Fly Trap (Dionaea muscipula) |
I was too late to catch the fly traps in bloom but once again I was hardly disappointed, as in this unique case the vegetative state of the plant is the main draw. Many of the plants exhibited a striking contrast between green and red on their modified leaves while others remained purely lime-colored. You can gaze at all the online images of this plant you want, these included but nothing can prepare you for seeing their charm in the flesh.
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| All lime-green Venus fly trap (Dionaea muscipula) |
Venus fly trap's "jaws" are modified leaves that have their inner surfaces covered in tiny trigger hairs that allow the plant to know when to snap shut with the hope of a meal inside. Multiple trigger hairs must be touched in a relatively rapid succession for the plant to react and close in mere tenths of a second. This prevents false captures from happening and precious energy being wasted should only one hair be moved by things such as raindrops or debris.
This brings up the topic of the morality of getting Venus fly traps to close as a means of entertainment. You have to contemplate the amount of energy it must take for this plant to respond with such a rapid movement and then get nothing to replenish those stores. It would be no different than playing a long game of fetch with your dog and then refusing it food and water afterwards. Sure, it's just a plant but it's a pet peeve of mine to see people buy these in those humid plastic cubes at the local home improvement store only to have the plant dead and forgotten a week or two later.
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| Venus Fly Trap (Dionaea muscipula) |
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| Venus Fly Trap (Dionaea muscipula) |
Even standing in front of them with the camera, I still felt like the Venus fly traps were plastic molds and not a real, living plant that had evolved over the countless millennia to be such a unique and fascinating being. An interesting tidbit I would come to find out is the name "fly" trap is a bit of a misnomer in the fact it rarely utilizes flying insects as prey. Ants, spiders, beetles, and other crawling arthropods are the dominate prey and something this specialized species has come to utilize most often.
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| Pink Sundew (Drosera capillaris) and Lycopodiella spp. |
As fascinating as the Venus fly traps were, they were hardly the sole species of insectivorous plant to call the bog home. The round scarlet clumps of basal leaves of the pink sundew (Drosera capillaris) were everywhere in the muckier, more saturated parts of the bog; their spatulate leaves glistening with insidious dew.
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| Wet, open part of the bog with the endangered white pitcher plant (Sarracenia leucophylla) |
If I came for the Venus fly traps then let it be said that I stayed for the white pitcher plants (Sarracenia leucophylla). The dry hummocks dotting the landscape of standing water were lined with their green-scarlet-white goodness and it was quite the task trying to take your eyes off their elegance.
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| White Pitcher Plant (Sarracenia leucophylla) |
Back in Ohio, only one species of pitcher plant (S. purpurea) can call our state home and its diminutive stature and comparatively tame coloration is no match for its white-headed brethren. Also known as scarlet pitcher plant, this taxon is listed as endangered in the state of Florida and currently under consideration for federal listing. Habitat loss/degradation, illegal picking/digging, and a very restricted geographic distribution all go hand-in-hand to make this gorgeous bug-eater a species on the brink.
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| White Pitcher Plant (Sarracenia leucophylla) |
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| White Pitcher Plant (Sarracenia leucophylla) |
It's almost as if an artist with surgical hands and infinite patience took each blank green pitcher and meticulously painted its head with a delicate scarlet venation over the snow white background. Each pitcher was like a fingerprint in that no two were exactly the same, every one a unique pattern and individual work of art.
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| White Pitcher Plant (Sarracenia leucophylla) |
Much like the Venus fly traps, the white pitcher plants were done blooming for the year and had their respective flower stalks in various stages of decay and desiccation. Once again, the real value lay in the leaves rather than the flowers so it was another none issue.
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| Coastal Plain Yellow-eyed Grass (Xyris ambigua) |
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| Coastal Plain Yellow-eyed Grass (Xyris ambigua) |
An interesting aspect to pay attention to when traveling around is how the diversity of certain genera waxes and wanes depending on the region you're in. For instance, the yellow-eyed grasses (Xyris spp.) are a pretty easy group to get under your belt in Ohio with our whopping two species. But travel down to the Southeast and you're greeted by over 20 different taxa; including this robust and vigorous species I believe to be coastal plain yellow-eyed grass (X. ambigua). It was quite prevalent throughout the bog and by far the showiest yellow-eyed grass I'd ever seen.
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| Mucky, saturated area of the bog with Drosera tracyi and Triantha racemosa |
Despite the bog being rather small and long/narrow in shape, it was interesting to see how the plant associations changed with the level of saturation and water depth. The open clay pans where shallow water flowed over it was always ensconced with dense clumps of Tracy's sundew (Drosera tracyi) and scatterings of white wands belonging to coastal false asphodel (Triantha racemosa).
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| Tracy's Sundew (Drosera tracyi) |
You'd be hard pressed to find a more impressive sundew in North America than Tracy's. Its long, green linear leaves seem to be on steroids and have to be the stuff of nightmares for any small insect. Until recently it was regarded as a variety to the filiform sundew (D. filiformis) but was given full species status and can be told apart by its predominately-pure green color and super-sized appearance.
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| Coastal False Asphodel (Triantha racemosa) |
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| Coastal False Asphodel (Triantha racemosa) |
Despite having never seen this specific wildflower before, I knew right away the snow-white stalks hiding among the enormous sundews on the clay flats belonged to the Triantha genus. The coastal false asphodel (T. racemosa) looks almost identical to the sticky false asphodel (T. glutinosa) that calls Ohio's high-quality fen meadows home and is separated by technical differences in the styles and fruit capsules. Since the two species' ranges don't overlap it's a pretty easy split, with T. racemosa being a coastal plains species and T. glutinosa an interior and northern occurrence.
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| Fringed Meadow Beauty (Rhexia petiolata) |
In a case similar to the aforementioned yellow-eyed grasses, the Southeast and especially Florida is a hot bed of diversity for the meadow beauties (Rhexia spp.). Of the handful of species I saw while on the panhandle, I think my favorite was the fringed meadow beauty (R. petiolata) blooming in the bog with the sundews, pitcher plants, and Venus fly traps. Most meadow beauties tend to show off their reproductive parts proudly with over-sized stamens but the fringed meadow beauty was a much more shy and conservative species.
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| Carex glaucescens |
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| Fuirena squarrosa |
A sedge-head in Ohio is a sedge-head anywhere and everywhere, so it should come as little surprise I'd keep an eye out for some new and unusual Cyperaceae finds. Oddly enough, the Southeast is hardly a breeding ground for Carex diversity and of the handful or so of species I found, the southern waxy sedge (C. glaucescens) was by far the best. Making up for the lack of Carex was the presence of a sedge genus I'd long wanted to come across but never had the chance to living/working in Ohio. The umbrella sedges (Fuirena spp.), or pineapple sedges as I came to affectionately call them are an oddball group that look like spiky footballs. Doing my best to follow along through the keys, I believe this one to be the hairy umbrella sedge (F. squarrosa).
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| Orange Milkwort (Polygala lutea) |
I went into my panhandle forays with little expectations or demands on what I wanted to see and figured just about everything would be new in one way or another and equally exciting. However, one wildflower I had my fingers crossed on was the orange milkwort (Polygala lutea) and as luck would have it I got plenty of chances to soak in its charm. The plants at Hosford bog seemed to grow in a more prostrate manner than is typical but that did nothing to take away from their delicious-looking, creamsicle appearance.
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| Black-and-Yellow Garden Spider (Arigope spp.) |
As if the sundews, pitcher plants, and fly traps weren't enough, the bog was littered with black-and-yellow garden spiders (Arigope spp.) biding their time on the edges of their webs, waiting for a fly lucky enough to escape death-by-plant to run out of said luck and get caught in its stickiness.
I could easily go on about the wonders within Hosford bog, but this seems as good a place as any to call it quits for now and pick back up on another Florida panhandle botanical foray in the very near future. The next couple posts will deal with the wondrous longleaf pine savannas of Apalachicola National Forest and the slew of phenomenal wildflowers that come with them. Stay tuned!
