A Quirky Orchid Under Old-Growth Pine and Hemlock

If you're a first time reader and/or visitor to this page, I thank you for dropping in and hope you enjoy your stay. For everyone else, whether it be my long-time readers or recent followers you should probably know by now of my obsession with our wild orchids.  It's a passion that only increases as the weeks and months go by after all.  I hope to feature or share each and every one of Ohio's 47 indigenous taxa on here at least once as time goes on.  The one that happens to be featured in this post also happens to be one of my favorites.  I know, every other orchid species is "one of my favorites" but this one is definitely on the top ten list.

Dan deep in thought under the old-growth white pines and hemlocks

The hike to the site for our upcoming quirky orchid is one of my favorites in Ohio, as it takes you into one of the rarest habitats our state has left to offer.  Along a north facing bluff overlooking the deep sandstone gorge of the Clear Fork of the Mohican is a very small but very significant old-growth white pine and hemlock forest full of ancient and towering specimens.  Above my good friend and botanical companion for the day, Daniel Boone pauses under a particularly profound white pine to ponder the beauty of the forest.

Soaring white pine

Stout hemlocks

Stout and straight with hardly a taper is the rule in this grove and that makes it truly a sight to behold.  Even on the clearest and sunniest of days the forest floor remains cool and dark with its lofty canopy keeping the sun at bay overhead.  The melodic notes of the veery, hermit thrush, and black-throated green warbler are never far from your ear during this time of year and add another layer to your sensory overload.

Round-leaved orchid under the pines and hemlocks

Due to the aforementioned low-light conditions, the forest floor is sparsely vegetated with a large ratio of the ground merely a bed of fallen pine needles and oak leaves among a scattering of intermediate wood fern (Dryopteris intermedia).  Hardly anything seems able to live, let alone thrive in such conditions but the round-leaved orchid (Platanthera orbiculata) has managed to find a way. 

Round-leaved Orchid (Platanthera orbiculata)

Its large, round basal leaves are hard to miss among the detritus when purely vegetative but there's really no overlooking the plant when in full glorious flower.  It's ghostly cream-green glow beckons any willing soul toward its wand of bizarre looking flowers arranged in perfect fashion along a scape.

Close up of the raceme of round-leaved orchid

In my opinion, no other Ohio orchid's individual flower structure is more out-of-this-world than the round-leaved orchid's.  In something out of a drug-induced vision of the late Hunter S. Thompson, the flowers look like scurrying demonic, bat-headed beings on four legs with a tail, all ascending back up into their alien mothership.  Anyone care to share what they see in the flowers?

Such weird looking flowers

Aerial view of the round-leaved orchid

Orchids have the reputation for being some of the more fickle and finicky wildflowers out there and that stereotype definitely holds true with this species, at least in your narrator's experience.  I've visited this site annually for the past four years and it's certainly had its boom and bust years.  In 2011 the population had a mass bloom with dozens of plants bearing flowering stalks of varying size and vigor.  Subsequent visits in 2012 and 2013 produced essentially no flowering individuals with the most recent trip in 2014 bearing a good amount in flower but not approaching that of 2011.  

A spectacular specimen of the round-leaved orchid

Living in such a low-light environment, it's no surprise this species would come to evolve and bear such over-sized leaves and have a staggered bloom cycle from year to year.  Only a tiny fraction of the total available sunlight beaming down at the canopy penetrates through and reaches this particularly bleak forest floor, so any plants below are going to need all the help they can to keep their glucose factories humming along.  Sending up a flower stalk is an enormous allocation of energy for each individual plant so it makes perfect sense that a round-leaved orchid would take several years off between reproduction events to accumulate and replenish its energy stores before repeating the process.  

Round-leaved orchid portrait

The round-leaved orchid is predominately a species of the coniferous hardwood and mixed forests of the Great Lakes region, the Northeast, and all across northern Canada.  It does occur at higher elevations in the Appalachians as far south as Tennessee and North Carolina as well as in limited parts of the northern Rockies.  Here in Ohio, it occurs throughout the northeastern quarter of the state in a variety of mesic-dry conifer and mixed forests.  At Clear Fork Gorge it seems to prefer the oldest areas of the white pine/hemlock/chestnut oak forest accompanied by a thick duff of conifer needles where little else occurs.

Round-leaved orchid from 2011.

Round-leaved orchid from 2011.

As impossible as it is to see every orchid, every year going forward, I do my best to revisit each species because I'm just that nuts I guess?  Probably, but also because few things are more fun and get me more excited than the prospect of seeing an old friend again and these orchids were long overdue for a sit down.

Tanner getting acquainted with the round-leaved orchids

Along with Dan on this foray was my friend and exceptional field botanist in his own right, Tanner Morris who has a soft spot for our wild orchids as well.  He had never had the chance to see and photograph this species before so I was extra pleased this population finally came back to life this season.  Not to speak for Tanner himself but I think it's safe to assume he couldn't have enjoyed the experience more.  Hopefully there will be some around next year to see as barely even 12 hours removed, I'm already anticipating the next time.

Surprise Snow at Fort Hill State Memorial

This past Sunday saw your blogger and a few botanical buddies in Dan Boone, Duane Hook, and Solomon Gamboa (be sure to click Solomon's name and check out his own fantastic blog!) have an early morning rendezvous at Fort Hill State Memorial in the unglaciated foothills of southern Highland county.  With the weather forecast calling for mostly clear skies and temperatures in the fifties, we all went to bed the night before with dreams of a prototypical early spring foray into the spectacular mature mixed mesophytic forests, monstrous trees, and limestone gorge of arguably our state's finest natural area.  Instead my accompaniment and I awoke and arrived to a surprise late season snowfall that left a couple inches covering the ground and just about every branch, limb and twig.

Friends Dan Boone, Duane Hook, and Solomon Gamboa walking past some impressive tuliptrees atop the fort's plateau

After the long and arduous winter Mother Nature has taken its sweet time waking up from, it didn't come as much of a surprise we'd see the white stuff again.  We couldn't complain too much though as the surrounding scenery was accented so perfectly with the fresh powder.  Little did we know just how memorable and one-of-a-kind these particular couple inches of snow would end up being.

Expansive wetland and buttonbush swamp atop the fort's plateau (photo credit: Duane Hook)

Fort Hill's significance not only lies in its diverse and intact ecosystems but in its natural history as well.  Over 2,000 years ago a culture of Native Americans known today as the Hopewell constructed massive earthworks throughout this region of the state in the forms of mounds, geometric shapes, and hilltop earthworks.  These ancient peoples utilized Fort Hill's naturally-occurring flat ridge top and enclosed/encircled the rim with an earthen wall ranging from 6 to 15 feet in height and 30 feet wide at its base.  Its circumference measures an impressive 8,600+ feet; that's over a mile and half and must have taken a long, long time to form with such limited tools.

Enormous old-growth tuliptree

old-growth beech, tuliptree, and red oak

We decided to get our blood pumping early and tackle the lung-buster of a jaunt to the top of the ridge some 400+ feet higher in elevation.  All along the upper slopes of the ridge and rim is an impressive display of old-growth tree specimens like red, white, and chestnut oaks; tuliptree; ash; and beech.  Photos on your computer screen could never even come close to relating the immensity and awe of some of the individual trees and deserve the respect of a physical visit.

Looking through the trees from the upper slopes of Fort Hill and out across the glaciated till plains

Fort Hill sits at the very edge of the Wisconsin glacier's southernmost advancement and as a result supplies some pretty spectacular views from its summit and upper slopes.  This particular view through the trees shows the flattened landscape of the till plains to the north and west.  Even 2,000 years later it's not hard to fathom what the indigenous cultures saw in Fort Hill in its intrinsic beauty and location.

White oaks among the snow

Early spring winter wonderland

Our path along the upper stretches of the ridge eventually found us entering a corridor of forest that experienced an unbelievable combination of atmospheric conditions unlike anything I'd ever seen before, at least to such an eloquent extent.

Dan standing in a dreamscape world of snow and ice

Here it was nearly the last day of March with our mission to find some early spring wildflowers finally unfurling their much anticipated petals and you'd have sworn it was still ice-locked January.  Friends and acquaintances who know Dan personally will also know he's not the biggest fan of snow, especially after the winter Ohio just crawled out of but not even he could argue with the beauty and unbelievable artistic design of it all.

Even more so than the photos of leviathan tree specimens, the video above pales in comparison to the sight and experiences of the landscape itself but it's certainly better than leaving it purely up to your imagination. For some reason the quality of the video plummets once you enlarge the window so I would suggest keeping it at the size presented on the blog for the best results even if the frame is rather small.

Wild turkey tracks

Perfectly accumulated snow

From the telltale sign of the unblemished snow on the trail and landscape, we were the first people to venture into Fort Hill that morning but we were far from the only signs of life.  Turkey tracks dotted the landscape in some parts with their signature three-toed footprints.

Duane walking towards the light...

Our hike started out under a uniformly gray and overcast sky but was quickly overrun with abundant sunshine that reflected off the snow in a brilliant fashion.  All four of us commented and agreed that none had ever seen an event or look quite like this before.  The surprises and rewards nature gives those who take the time to immerse themselves in her splendor is what has us come back time and time again.  By the time we were done with our four plus mile walkabout in the early afternoon, the temps had warmed into the upper forties and melted all the accumulated snow off the tree trunks and limbs and the most sun-exposed slopes.  In the few short hours this magical paradise of snow and ice existed, the four of us ended up being the only people to experience it and experience it we did.  I think I can speak for all of us that it will be something to fondly look back on for years and years to come.

Briar patch and snow equals art

What a brilliant blue sky!

It's amazing how something as trivial as snow could turn a typically intimidating and immense brier patch of greenbrier (Smilax rotundifolia) into one of the most artistic designs and patterns I've ever personally witnessed. No flake was wasted as each one solidly stuck exactly where it fell and built up to create such splendid ice crystal sculptures.  Almost equally pleasing was the contrast of the sharp blue sky and the dazzling white virgin snow.

Limestone gorge along Baker Fork (photo credit: Duane Hook)

The ever-warming temperatures accelerated the steady drip-drip-drip of melting snow on top of our heads as we made our way out of the winter wonderland utopia and down into the limestone gorge of Baker Fork, a tributary of nearby Ohio Brush Creek.  The gorge's sheer dolomite cliff faces and bluffs are home to an assortment of rare and unusual plant species such as Sullivant's coolwort (Sullivantia sullivantii), Canada yew (Taxus canadensis), snow trillium (Trillium nivale), and the incredibly rare Canby's mountain-lover (Paxistima canbyi).

Stunted and gnarled red cedars and chinkapin oaks lining the rim and gorge's walls

Upon receding into the gorge's depths the soils turn to a sweet alkaline composition and allow for calcareous appreciating species like chinkapin oak, blue ash, and red cedar to dominate.  Some of the stunted and gnarled chinkapin oaks that cling to existence along the dolomite bluffs and cliff faces hardly look their age as trees only six to seven inches in diameter have been aged to a couple centuries old.

Canby's mountain-lover (Paxistima canbyi)

Thick, leathery, evergreen leaves of the Paxistima

Fort Hill's most precious and rare botanical treasure also occurs on the thin-soild limestone bluffs of the gorge as the state endangered and uber-rarity Canby's mountain-lover (Paxistima canbyi).  This unusual member of the bittersweet family (Celastraceae) came to Ohio via the ancient northwest-flowing Teays River millions of years ago before its demise prior to the glacial events of the Pleistocene's ice ages.  The evergreen, trailing sub-shrub has continued to persist in relic tributary valleys of the Teays to this day where it's only known to occur here at Fort Hill and in a similar limestone bluff situation along another tributary of Ohio Brush Creek on the Edge of Appalachia further south.  Both populations are clonal colonies of great age and with any luck will continue to persist for the foreseeable future.

Your blogger photographing some snow-covered snow trillium along the gorge's bluffs  (photo credit: Duane Hook)

One of the biggest targets of our visit and hike was to see the early blooming and dainty snow trillium (Trillium nivale) known to grow in select spots along the gorge's bluffs.  True to their name, we found them in full flower despite the couple inches of overnight snow accumulated on top of them.

Snow trillium in the snow

Snow trillium (Trillium nivale)

Countless millennia of evolution and adaptation has allowed these charming and tiny wildflowers to survive spring's unpredictable weather and late blasts of snow and low temperatures.  If a couple inches were to truly do them any harm these wonders would have disappeared eons ago and not lasted to our present day and be able to lift the spirits of a weary, winter-logged botanist.

Wild leek (Allium tricoccum) emerging from their winter slumber

If snow trillium was a treat for the eyes, then the tender, freshly-emerged wild leek (Allium tricoccum) leaves were the equivalence for our noses and taste buds.  They didn't seem to mind the temporary return of winter and hopefully didn't mind a few tiresome hikers nibbling at their tastiness either.

By the time we returned back to the parking lot most of the snow had melted away and left a scene far different than we arrived to four or five hours earlier.  It was hard to believe we were in the same spot but that's the nature of the season's last ephemeral snows.  I, for one am in no rush for any more frozen precipitation and look forward to spring continuing to unfold.

A special thanks to my friend Duane who kindly lent me a camera battery when mine was discovered to be dead (always check your charge the night before no matter how sure you are that you're ok) and also for generously letting me use a few of his excellent photographs in this post!  Thanks, Duane!

A Tribute to Some Tremendous Trees

Everyone remembers the first time they experienced the emotion of falling in love.  That moment of realization and cognizance that nothing else can compare to what you have grown to hold so dear.  If you're lucky those feelings never fade and only increase exponentially as time inevitably marches forward.  For your blogger it was trees that first tugged at his heart strings, botanically-speaking, of course.

Trees are the modern day kings of the vascular plant world and among the most massive and oldest individual (and clonal) organisms on the face of our planet.  There's just something about them that has kindled respect and astonishment from me at even a young age.  Whether reacquainting myself with an old friend who has seen many a spring thawing and winter's chill or gazing upon a stately stranger I've only just met, each moment spent under their sprawling ceiling of limbs, branches, and twigs is precious.  Their role and importance in any ecosystem cannot be understated and without them the world would be without us and millions of other beings. Trees truly are the heart and soul of our natural world.

In my travels both near and far, I've always kept a keen eye open for any spectacular individuals that just beg to be documented with the camera.  Rarely does any photograph ever truly forge or recreate the same awestruck feeling of disbelief and/or amazement as in person but I've done my best pick out those that at least try their very hardest.  The character and personality these mighty wooden sentinels are capable of displaying are not unlike our own as human beings when you take the time to notice.  Trees are the ultimate prize of time, patience, and opportunity.

One of the largest Sitka spruce trees left on the planet

Let's start off with a bang and an experience that left me feeling rather small and immensely humbled.  This monstrosity of a conifer on the Olympic peninsula of Washington state is one of the largest Sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis) trees left on the planet.  It's thought to be over one thousand years old and is still packing on more and more wood annually.  For more on this tree and other virgin temperate rain forest giants, you can check out the post about my visit to this lush land HERE.

Forest-grown white oak in Gross Woods

Old-growth bitternut hickory

I often times enjoy making an attempt to liken the feel of my current-day photographs to that of a time over a century earlier with a black and white scheme.  It gives the slight impression of what it might have felt like to stand next to the leviathans long lost to the saw and ax.  It's a sad reality that we lose these relics of the past much faster and more frequently than nature can replace them; especially in a time where land development and alteration is occurring at an ever-accelerating pace.

Blogger and the great white oak of Logan, Ohio

Few trees leave me more breathless than the Great White Oak in the old cemetery of Logan, Ohio.  If someone knows of a plumper, more impressive tree specimen in the state I'd love to see it because I can't imagine many could ever compare.  Estimates put this tree at near/over 500 years old.  That's 500 years of Mother Nature's fury combined with human development and stress that hasn't seemed to slow this gargantuan beast down. Giving this white oak a hug should be on every nature-appreciating Ohioan's bucket list!

Ancient white pine in the Adirondack Mountains

Ancient white pines in the Adirondacks of NY

A road trip to the southern Adirondacks of upstate New York a couple summers ago introduced me to some genuine Northeast white pines (Pinus strobus) that I will never forget.  White pine has long been a treasured and renowned species for its tall, straight growth habit that was perfect for ship building.  Subsequently, almost all the old-growth pine stands in New England met their sawmill fates well over a century ago with very few groves still remaining.  The tree pictured top left is believed to be one of the largest/oldest white pine's left in the Adirondacks at over 350 years old and 150'+ tall!

Giant white cedar on South Manitou Island in Lake Michigan

Nestled in a remote corner of South Manitou Island in Lake Michigan survives a small grove of virgin white cedars (Thuja occidentalis) that have reached unbelievable dimensions like the one shown here.  In fact, the largest white cedar on Earth once called this small island home before falling over in a violent storm not too long ago. Perhaps this one here is its successor?

Old-growth beech in a SE Indiana wet flatwoods

An ancient beech at Fort Hill in Highland Co., OH

Few trees have the same look and feel as the timeless beech (Fagus grandifolia) in my opinion.  Their smooth, ghostly grey trunks always seem to emit a warm glow in the shade of the forest.

An exceptional tuliptree from southern Ohio

If the white pine is the monarch of the conifers in Eastern North America, then the tuliptree or tulip poplar (Liriodendron tulipifera) is the monarch of its broadleaf brethren.  This fast-growing but potentially long-lived species is the tallest angiosperm we have in our eastern forests and once scraped the heavens at over 200 feet tall in the primeval forests.  Today, it doesn't reach nearly as high but 180'+ specimens do exist.  This particular tuliptree from southern Ohio exhibits the remarkable diameters these behemoths are also known for.

Impressive red oak in Glen Helen

Single-stem sycamore of nice proportions

Not exactly record-setters but this red oak and sycamore from the Yellow Springs area are hardly anything to ignore.  Single-stem sycamores of this size aren't an every day sight anymore despite trees like this (and much bigger) were nearly a dime a dozen along our waterways in pre-settlement times.

Dan Boone and Rick Gardner walking through Daughmer Oak Savanna in Crawford Co., Ohio

Few places instill the flavor and atmosphere of a pre-settlement western Ohio like the few oak savannas we have left in our state.  For centuries many a stalwart bur, white, and/or post oak watched over the open, seasonally wet grasslands that once pocketed the glaciated Wisconsin till plain before man's plow bit into its virgin sod...

Massive bur oak on a Columbus-area golf course

Not even a rare appearance on the golf course can distract your blogger from noticing the ancient monoliths of Ohio's past.  This hardy bur oak had its roots in the soil long before carts whizzed past without so much as a glance from their occupants.  Standing next to this particular giant gave me pause when I considered its view of tall grass prairie choked full of spectacular summer wildflowers was only a distant memory and forever lost to the past.  Just goes to show that nothing ever stays the same, even for a tree.

Huge white ash in a west-central Ohio woodlot

Giant bur oak in Goll Woods in NW Ohio

However, it's not all doom and gloom as even in a heavily farmed and developed state like Ohio, some woodlots still persist with scattered individuals linking the present to our storied past.  The white ash (Fraxinus americana) pictured above left is the largest single trunked specimen I've yet seen even if its crown is largely dead and/or missing.  Bur oaks like the one above are a mesmerizing sight upon entering one of the last vestiges of the Great Black Swamp in Goll Woods state nature preserve in extreme northwest Ohio.

Largest black walnut the blogger has ever laid eyes on

Even better is coming across an example of a tree species you could barely believe still exists in such dimensions. Black walnuts (Juglans nigra) were, and still are quick to be harvested for their very valuable and beautiful wood and thus hard to find in a large size.  While not prime lumber grade, this particular black walnut in Buck Creek state park was and still is by far the largest I've ever laid eyes on.  

Snow covered scene in Davey Woods state nature preserve

The winter woods and its bare, skeletal canopy is a silent testament to nature's beauty no matter the season.  The forest seems to speak and beckon you in with its creaks and groans emitting from the chilled air.  Each tree set against the snow becomes an individual with a unique story and form and a tranquility to it all that words can't quite touch.

Old-growth swamp chestnut oak/sweet gum/beech woods in southeastern Indiana

A lovely example of an old-growth wet flat woods in southeastern Indiana full of trees three to four feet in diameter and rocketing over 100' into the sky.  Swamp chestnut oak, sweet gum, and beech are the primary occupants with thick, stout trunks that are slow to taper as they ascend.

Dan Boone and a mighty swamp chestnut oak

Looking up the column of the same oak

The most impressive denizens of this particular wet flat woods were the swamp chestnut oaks (Quercus michauxii), a species that doesn't quite make it north/east enough to occur in Ohio.  My good friend and brilliant botanist, Dan Boone poses next to one of the largest specimens of them all with the accompanying photograph showing the incredible volume of wood reaching into the heavens.

Exceptional sweetgum from SE Indiana

But then again, the sweetgums (Liquidambar styraciflua) in the same woods and other nearby old-growth flat woods aren't anything to pass over either!

I could go on and on in sharing my favorite trees but I will end it with one of the most impressive trees (height-wise) I've yet seen.  This shellbark hickory (Carya laciniosa) from another wet flat woods in southeastern Indiana is estimated at over 150' tall and three feet in diameter.  I'd love to get back out with the necessary tools and information to get a more educated height but regardless it's one imposing tree!  It's hard to fathom how this tree has survived who knows how many winter storms, squall lines, and ice events to still astound this tree-loving botanist today!