Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Upstate New York I: Sphagnum Bogs and the White Fringed Orchid, Hudson Ice Meadows, and Orchids Galore!

*Part I* *Part II* *Part III*

Better late than never!  Life and its priorities have recently kept me away from the computer and the time and energy necessary to sit down and write.  I've always kept this blog as something extracurricular and a fun way to share my travels, experiences, and discoveries and sometimes I just need a break to spend more time out in the natural world than at the keyboard.  Rest assured the mood and free time has struck me and I'm here to deliver on my blissful and majestic time spent in the Adirondacks!

Note: it's a lengthy post but that's more to blame on the photos than the writing.  I did my best to keep it short and sweet and allow the pictures to do the talking!

Upstate New York.  What a transcendent place to escape to for a few days during the summer months.  I certainly didn't mind trading the suffocating heat and humidity of Ohio for the comfortable days and crisp, cool nights of the Saratoga Springs area.  My friend and fellow nature blogger Jackie Donnelly was extremely gracious in opening up her home to me and was incredibly hospitable to someone she'd never personally met before.  I've been a passionate follower of her blog, and her mine, the past couple years and inevitably a friendship was kindled by the mutual respect and admiration we both shared for the outdoors.  If you don't already read her flowing words or gaze endlessly at her vivid photographs then you need to get over to Saratoga Woods and Waterways right now!  Well, after you read this post of course.  For her detailed account of my stay and our forays check out this link here!

It was an 11 hour drive from my hometown to Saratoga Springs and a large majority of it was rather forgettable.  Fortunately, I had plenty of podcasts of my favorite sports talk shows (yes, I'm one of those guys) downloaded which really helped to break up the monotony.  The stretch along Lake Erie in Pennsylvania and New York coming into Buffalo was scenic as were the large, rolling green hills of eastern New York on the thruway once I passed Utica.  Speaking of the I-90 thruway, that has to be the closest thing to a North American autobahn I've yet experienced.  I'm not much for speed to begin with but when you're cruising at 80 mph and still feel like you're going too slow as cars zip and fly past you, you'll white-knuckle grip the steering wheel too.  I arrived at Jackie's in the afternoon after a thankfully uneventful drive and was treated to a delicious dinner and the week's itinerary before calling it a night early to get some sleep and recharge for the exciting events sure to unfold tomorrow.


Large expanse of tamarack and black spruce bog near Lake George

The next morning dawned clear and dewy with a crisp chill to the air I hadn't felt in months.  I knew just walking out the door it was going to be a day to remember.  With our gear in the car we were off for my first taste of an entirely new region and ecosystem(s).  Our first stop of the day was a secretive sphagnum bog near the southern tip of Lake George that was the primary reason for my visit and held something I had dreamed of seeing for years.  What could lie within that kept me on pins and needles the entire drive there?  Only one of the most stunning and intricately-designed orchids I'll ever have the honor of laying eyes on.

White Fringed orchid (Platanthera blephariglottis)

We parked nearby and met Jackie's friend and naturalist, Sue Pierce before proceeding on to the margins of a vast and seemingly endless grounded sphagnum bog comprised of tamarack and black spruce.  Our feet squished into the cold, saturated mat of ruby red sphagnum as we started out into the bog.  It wasn't long before our eyes were greeted with the brilliant snowy wands of the white fringed orchid (Platanthera blephariglottis), the crowned jewel of the north.


White Fringed orchid (Platanthera blephariglottis)

Most of the orchids were still in bud throughout the bog but luckily a few dozen specimens were in fine shape, showing off their delicately fringed flowers and long nectar spurs.  Back here in Ohio the white fringed orchid is an endangered species, only currently known from one bog in the northeastern part of the state where it was discovered in 1983; the first sighting in the state in nearly 50 years.  Whether or not it flowers from year to year is an incredibly fickle cycle, which helps to complicate the situation of seeing it.  When I saw Jackie post a blog last summer sharing a place where these grow by the hundreds I knew I had to make a pilgrimage the next year to finally make their acquaintance face to face.  I challenge someone to find a more pure and vivid white flower anywhere else in the plant kingdom.


Your blogger photographing the white fringed orchids: courtesy Jackie

Jackie and Sue disappeared off into the spruce and tamaracks to further explore the bog while I spent some long awaited camera time with the white fringed orchids.  With it being just a wee bit tricky to photograph one's self in action, I was very thankful Jackie took the time to capture the above image.  Being able to look back and relive this momentous occasion through this photograph means a lot.


White Fringed orchid (Platanthera blephariglottis)

A close look at the individual inflorescences reveal the evolutionary masterpiece that is this astounding orchid.  Each lip (labellum) hangs below the eye-like pollinia with its wispy fringing around the margins.  They seem to imitate little white birds bursting into flight with the long nectar spur trailing behind.  I noticed Jackie was wearing black pants and asked her to stand behind the raceme of blooms to give a background that would really make those 'birds' pop.  Like many other members of the Platanthera genus, the white fringed orchid is pollinated by nocturnal species of moths that are attracted to the sweet-smelling scent of the nectar at the end of the long spur.  As they probe the spur with their equally long proboscis their eyes incidentally come into contact with the pollinia.  With any luck the pollinia will attach themselves to the moth's eye and be carried to another flower/plant where it can be deposited and pollinate the flower.


White Fringed orchid (Platanthera blephariglottis)

The brilliant orchids really stood out against the sapphire blue sky and reds/greens of the bog.  A large portion of the photo shoot really came down to patience in waiting for a cloud to roll across the sun and cast some shade onto the bog.  I'll never complain about a gorgeous sunny day but when I'm out specifically for photography I'll take a lightly overcast day every time.


Bog Rosemary (Andromeda polifolia)

The white fringed orchids were hardly the only plants worth noticing or getting excited about growing throughout the sphagnum.  Scattered all around were small shrubs of bog rosemary (Andromeda polifolia), a unique boreal species of bogs and cold peatlands.  The bluish-green linear, evergreen leaves help give its identity away.  It hasn't been seen in Ohio in over 80 years and is more than likely permanently extirpated from the state due to habitat loss combined with never being a frequent species to begin with.  I had only ever seen it before in northern Michigan, on the Bruce peninsula in Ontario, and at its curiously disjunct, southernmost population in the cranberry glades botanical area of West Virginia.


Black Huckleberry (Gaylussacia baccata)

Almost as equally awesome as the white fringed orchids in the bog were the infinite amounts of perfectly ripened black huckleberries (Gaylussacia baccata) and highbush blueberries (Vaccinium corymbosum) everywhere.  It's not everyday you can gorge yourself on blueberries and huckleberries free and fresh from the bush as you are surrounded by a pristine and spectacular ecosystem.  I took full advantage of the situation and stuffed my face throughout my time there.  Snap a photograph or two, hand full of berries, and repeat!


Habitat shot of the sphagnum bog

Just about all of Ohio's sphagnum bogs and peatland was drained and removed years ago during settlement and the conversion to agriculture.  All that's left are small, scattered kettle ponds and bogs restricted to the northeastern quarter of the state.  Having the freedom and ability to walk through the endless expanse of bog and labyrinth of vegetation was a dream come true.  I always find myself wishing I could travel back in time and see just what Ohio's different habitats and ecosystems were like pre-settlement.  Not to say the native Americans didn't have any influence or affect on the land but certainly not at the scale of the white Europeans.


Northern Pitcher Plant (Sarracenia purpurea)

A whole slew of interesting and rare-to-me plant species such as the bog rosemary, white fringed orchids, arrow arum (Peltandra virginica), sweet gale (Myrica gale), northern pitcher plant (Sarracenia purpurea), grass pink orchid (Calopogon tuberosus), swamp loosestrife (Decodon verticillatus), tawny cottongrass (Eriophorum virginicum), and black chokeberry (Photinia melanocarpa) filled the bog and kept my mind racing and camera shutter clicking all morning.


Grass Pink orchid (Calopogon tuberosus)

Surprisingly still in bloom along the margins of the bog were numerous grass pink orchids (Calopogon tuberosus).  Their interesting architecture and design combined with the bright purplish-pink coloration make them a hard sight to miss contrasting against the green sphagnum.  I was pleased to have seen two orchids that early in the day but I had no idea just how many more awaited me later!  With my task finished and the white fringed orchids freshly pressed in my mind we tromped out of the bog and decided to grab lunch along the sparkling blue waters of Lake George in the nearby village.  I could hardly wait to continue on to the day's next spot we were headed to.

A particular stretch of shoreline on the Hudson River north of Saratoga Springs is home to one of the most diverse and fascinating habitats in the entire state of New York and a place I had seen Jackie blog about countless times accompanied with exciting photographs of rare and unusual plants.


The botanically-diverse ice meadows of the Hudson River

Dubbed the 'ice meadows' of the Hudson, this unique ecosystem owes its continued existence to the harsh New York winters and the important task involved from the cold and ice.  The open, grassland-like habitat along the shoreline is created and sustained each winter when huge deposits of frazile ice accumulate on the margins of the Hudson.  The immense weight and pressure from the ice pack, which can reach 15 feet in height at this location, generate the pseudo-boreal habitat which isn't cleared of ice until late in the spring.  This annual 'cleansing' of the shoreline prevents woody vegetation from encroaching and keeps the intriguing plant diversity intact for the summer months.  Unfortunately I was a couple weeks too late for the prime wildflower fireworks show the ice meadows put on each June but there was still plenty to be seen and appreciated all along the banks of the mighty Hudson.


Spatulate-leaved Sundew (Drosera intermedia)

One of the first neat plants I noticed growing throughout the rocky terrain was the most robust and impressive clumps of spatulate-leaved sundew (Drosera intermedia) I'd ever seen.  Most were already past flowering stage and developing fruit capsules but the plant's unrivaled leaves covered in sticky 'dew' are always a welcome consolation; especially when it's an endangered species I rarely see in Ohio.


Large Cranberry (Vaccinium macrocarpon)

Another plentiful and dainty plant among the rocky crags and exposures in the ice meadows was large cranberry (Vaccinium macrocarpon).  The evergreen trailing mini-shrub was in full bloom during my visit and many plants were covered in the shooting star-like flowers that will eventually mature into the tasty cranberries some of us enjoy adorning our morning oatmeal with.


Lesser Purple Fringed orchid (Platanthera psycodes)

A prized plant Jackie had high hopes of finding and sharing with me while combing through the ice meadows was the lesser purple fringed orchids (Platanthera psycodes).  A threatened species in Ohio of swamp forests and wet thickets, they are much more frequent in New York but equally exciting to anyone who may come across some.  Jackie was disappointed that all seemed to be taking this year off and we were just about to leave before she spotted some clematis leaves and went over to inspect the vine to see if it was in flower yet.  No sooner had she started to shift the plant around when she gave out an excited shout of "purple fringed orchid!".  Hiding behind some clematis and other vegetation was a lone orchid, albeit a bit beat up, but in full bloom nonetheless!  Funny how things seem to work out sometimes.


Rocky shores of the Hudson's ice meadows

Interestingly enough, the ice meadows contained quite a few species of plants synonymous with west-cenral Ohio's fen complexes and sedge meadows.  The cold spring water that seeps from the ground and runs among the hummocks and rocks seems to imitate the typical fen environment enough to allow species such as Carex buxbaumii, C. flava, Twigrush (Cladium mariscoides), sundews (Drosera spp.), spike rushes (Eleocharis spp.), sticky tofielda (Triantha glutinosa) and horned bladderwort (Utricularia cornuta) to thrive.


Sticky Tofielda (Triantha glutinosa)

I'll admit and say I did a bit of cheating with the sticky tofielda photo above.  These were already in fruit during my visit to the ice meadows so I substituted in a photograph from earlier in the year from Cedar Bog.  Hailing from the lily family (Liliaceae), it gets its name from the tacky stems the flowering head sits on.  In fact, the scientific epithet of glutinosa translates to 'very sticky'.


Horned Bladderwort (Utricularia cornuta)

The horned bladderwort is an endangered species back here in Ohio but was very frequent in the sandy and marly shorelines of the Hudson.  Bladderworts can be a pain to identify to the species level sometimes, but the horned bladderwort lives up to its namesake and can be distinguished by the protruding 'horn' under the inflorescence.  Another helpful characteristic is it's an entirely terrestrial bladderwort and never grows in standing water like several other species are known to do.

Big Bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) along the Hudson River

It's a shame so many people, your blogger previously included, associate the Hudson with New York City and the polluted, dirty mess it is at its terminus.  I think I'd watched too many Law & Order: SVU reruns with washed up bodies and discarded victims to think of the river in any other way.  Not anymore!  After seeing and experiencing this mighty river firsthand hundreds of miles to the north, I don't think I'll ever think of this river in that lesser light ever again.

Take notice of the grass clinging to existence in the crevices and cracks of the boulders.  Those tall culms topped with turkey-like feet belong to the big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii); a widely-distributed native warm season grass that is synonymous with the tall grass prairies of the eastern great plains and Midwest.  New York never had the expanses of tall grass prairie like that of Ohio but the ice compacted, open areas of the ice meadows have allowed this species to take hold and exist outside its normal fashion.


Hop Sedge (Carex lupulina)

One of the most dominate species of sedge (Carex) growing in the ice meadows was the hop sedge (C. lupulina).  It's a common sedge of eastern North America and can be found in just about any moist, well-lit situation.  The large seed heads are really aesthetically pleasing to me and something worth using in cultivation.  You really know you're a botanist and plant-nerd when you're thinking of ways to introduce a sedge to your landscaping.


Sensitive Fern (Onoclea sensibilis)

Not uncommon by any stretch of the imagination but always a favorite of mine no matter where I go is the sensitive fern (Onoclea sensibilis).  The margins of the meadow and woodland had hundreds of their delicate fronds spread open and catching the valuable and plentiful sunlight.

After several hours exploring the shorelines and rocky boulders of the Hudson's ice meadows we decided it was time to get back in the car and drive to Jackie's friend's property to check out a couple species of orchid she had in bloom in her cedar forest/swamp.  I am very thankful and appreciative of Evelyn Greene for opening up her land to me and sharing some of the botanical bounties that lay within.  She first led us to a dry mixed coniferous forest mostly comprised of white cedar (Thuja occidentalis) and some eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) to see an orchid that has long been extirpated to Ohio's soils.


Northern Green orchid (Platanthera aquilonis)


I hope you weren't expecting something as stupendous and angelic as the white fringed orchids.  The northern green orchid (Platanthera aquilonis) may get some votes as the most bland and boring of the indigenous orchid flora but I find a quiet and inherent beauty to it.  Evelyn had originally only found a few plants but after some searching with Jackie and I's extra pairs of eyes we ended up finding a handful more.


Northern Green orchid (Platanthera aquilonis


Upon closer inspection the details of the small green flowers come more into focus and, perhaps, allow for more appreciation from the casual observer.  The deep shade of the cedar forest caused for some pretty long exposure times but the wind was calm and that made things much, much easier.  I had only seen this species once before in the cedars forests and alvars on the Bruce peninsula of Ontario, so it was a big deal to see and photograph it again; especially such nice specimens.  As mentioned above, it's one of five species of orchids extirpated from Ohio causing for some out of state botanizing.


Ragged Fringed orchid (Platanthera lacera)


After photographing the northern green orchids, Evelyn took us through a secretive path into a cedar swamp where carefully planned steps and good balance was needed to weave in and out of the trees and stay on the dry hummocks.  We finally came to the spot where she had found three very robust and impressive specimens of ragged fringed orchid (Platanthera lacera).  Once again with some extra eyes we discovered a dozen or so more, each more impressive than the last it seemed.  I had seen this species on several occasions in Ohio where it grows in a variety of habitats but never anything approaching the size and proportions of these!


Ragged Fringed orchid (Platanthera lacera)


Seeing this orchid in such a new manner was an unexpected treat and delved me into even deeper botanical debt with Evelyn and Jackie.  As we made our way out of the swamp we passed through a more dry area that had some of the largest trees of their respective species I'd ever seen.  Perhaps the bordering swamp had prevented their cutting ages ago but massive white pines, red spruce, and eastern hemlock abounded and were quite the sight to an Ohioan who can't see such a sight at home.


Red Baneberry (Actea rubra)


We came to the gravel road and began to walk back to Evelyn's when I spotted something suspicious out of the corner of my eye.  Sitting right along the road were several large and fruiting red baneberry (Actea rubra) plants, a threatened species in Ohio I had never seen in person before.  It can be best separated from the very similar and much more common white baneberry (A. pachypoda) by fruit color (although some red baneberry plants can have white fruit) but most accurately by the thickness of the fruit's pedicel.  As you can see in the picture above, the pedicel is very thin while in white baneberry it is shorter and much thicker.  Randomly coming across this life species was a great cherry to the top of the day's sundae.

I had come to the end of day one and I had already seen and photographed five species of orchids; combed the botanically diverse and significant ice meadows of the Hudson; walked through the largest and most pristine sphagnum bog of my life; and trudged through a fine cedar forest/swamp.  It was a good sign for things to come as I would find out!  Come back soon for part II of my three-part series on my time in upstate New York!

*Part I* *Part II* *Part III*

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Botanizing Upstate New York

Hello all.  Sorry for the recent absences but this past month has been an absolute whirlwind of activity!  I just recently returned from some time well spent in the Saratoga Springs area of upstate New York visiting and botanizing with fellow nature blogger and friend Jackie Donnelly.  She was gracious and kind enough to host me for a few days and give me a tour of some of her favorite spots to botanize and paddle.  I will never be able to thank her enough for the sights and experiences I had up there; she was an incredible host and an equally knowledgeable and exciting naturalist/botanist.


I have a series of posts I plan to publish very soon on my time spent in the gorgeous splendor of the Adirondacks but if interested feel free to peruse Jackie's blog post on our forays into the wild and all that we saw that you can find RIGHT HERE.  From sphagnum bogs and the white fringed orchid (Platanthera blephariglottis) which was the main reason for my trip up; to paddling the sparkling waters of the Hudson River and mountain lakes; to virgin white pine and hemlock forests, my trip was an experience I'll never forget.  So check back soon for my series of posts and I hope you vicariously enjoy the trip even half as much as I did in person!


Monday, July 9, 2012

Fate and a Tiny Orchid


A few summers ago I headed out on a seemingly routine hike through one of my favorite areas of Zaleski state forest in Athens county.  Comprised of nearly 27,000 acres, Zaleski is choked full of interesting habitats and flora with a few hidden rarities and surprises within its borders.  The particular spot I decided to explore is a nameless, deep hollow that branches off from a small stream valley and splits two parallel-running ridges; each with its own unique plant communities and diverse species compositions.  I opted to follow a lightly-worn deer path along the upper slopes of the southwest-facing ridge to scout out what summer wildflowers were in bloom and perhaps come across something new.  I'd walked the same expanse of mature deciduous forest many times before and had quickly grown to appreciate and love its undisturbed appearance and peaceful atmosphere.

I slowly weaved my way through the mixed forest of chestnut, black and white oaks, sourwood, serviceberry, and red maple; keeping my eyes carefully peeled for anything out of the ordinary.  The ground was covered in a surprisingly rich mosaic of vegetation accustomed to the xeric and acidic underlying soils.  Reindeer lichen and an assortment of moss species carpeted the ground, cushioning my light footsteps as they fell.  The waning late-afternoon sun filtered through the canopy and dappled the forest floor in intense beams of warm light.  Not even the thick air, heavy with humidity could spoil the tranquility of the place.

I eventually came to notice that one of my boot laces had come undone sometime during the hike and decided to stop and take care of the matter.  I slide my camera equipment off my back and knelt down to re-tie the laces when out of my peripheral vision I noticed an intriguing sprig of green growing  a few feet away in a large patch of moss just at the edge of the rock ledge.  It was quite small, only four or five inches in height but different enough to have caught my eye.  I leaned in closer and with a shocked smile realized I had made quite the fateful discovery.

Green Adder's-Mouth Orchid  -  Malaxis unifolia

That little green sprig turned out to be the relatively rare and minuscule green adder's-mouth orchid (Malaxis unifolia).  I sat back in disbelief at the randomness of the find and couldn't help but ponder the odds of choosing that very spot and moment to fix my laces.  These orchids are already notoriously hard enough to see and locate under the darkened canopy and overgrown ground cover in its early July woodland home, let alone their green color and miniature size.  Not the best of combinations for discovery but the increasing difficulty makes it all the more exciting!

Green Adder's-Mouth Orchid  -  Malaxis unifolia

It may come as little surprise then that this particular orchid is listed as potentially-threatened in Ohio with a limited number of collections and populations throughout the eastern half of the state.  I suspect it could be a lot more common and frequent than current records or knowledge indicates, considering its preferred habitat of dry, acidic mixed deciduous forest is readily available in our state.  Add in its tiny stature, color, and odd blooming time and you have the perfect set up for a vastly overlooked plant.

Each plant rises from a fleshy subterranean corm and produces a single stem topped with a raceme made up of dozens of puny inflorescences gradually maturing and elongating from the terminal cluster.  The scientific epithet of uniflora refers to the single leaf that sheathes the lower half of the stalk.  Despite the numerous individual flowers each plant produces, typically only one or two are successfully pollinated and quickly swell with microscopic seeds.  Looking at the photograph above you can see a single maturing capsule located  along the middle left side of the raceme.

Green Adder's-Mouth Orchid  -  Malaxis unifolia

The green adder's-mouth orchid has the distinction of being Ohio's smallest indigenous species of orchid (in terms of flower size) but that doesn't necessarily translate into little worth or interest.  I find it to be a rather charming and refined species of plant that few are lucky enough to lay eyes on and appreciate first hand.  Next time any of you reading this are hiking in the eastern half of Ohio and find yourself in a dry, acidic mixed oak or upland woods during the mid-summer months keep an eye out for this orchid.  You never know what you may luck into.

In the summers following my initial stumble onto this lone specimen of orchid I have journeyed back each year to get reacquainted with it and spend some more time admiring its unique design and appearance.  I'm happy to report this has been the fourth year in a row it has broken ground and flowered in the same exact spot as year's past.  With a bit of luck this little guy will be around to greet me as an old friend for many summers to come and I can enjoy its company under the mighty oaks and reminisce of our fateful chance encounter on that hot and muggy afternoon in early July...

Thursday, June 7, 2012

The Showy Lady's Slippers of Cedar Bog

Cedar Bog.  Few places in the Midwest, let alone Ohio, have as much botanical wonder, biodiversity, and history stored inside than the white cedar swamp forests, fen sedge meadows, and tall grass prairie habitat here.  Owned and operated by the Ohio Historical Society since 1942, it was the first Ohio nature preserve to be purchased with state monies and is on the national natural landmarks register to boot.  Located in south-central Champagin county, Cedar Bog currently preserves well over 400 acres of original habitat and is home to nearly 100 rare species of flora and fauna.  It's a good thing this gem was saved and preserved because Ohio's intact, naturally-occurring wetlands are a very rare thing today.  Around 90% of Ohio's wetlands no longer exist and are gone forever. From over 5,000,000 acres pre-settlement to just a tiny fraction of that in under 300 years is depressing but that's what makes places like Cedar Bog so precious and vital to our biodiversity.  If you want a fact to really drive the nail home on our wetland habitat loss: California is the only state that has lost a larger percentage of its original wetlands than Ohio.  Click this link here for more on the matter.

Don't be fooled by the name however.  Cedar Bog is not a bog but in fact a fen.  What's the difference?  Bogs are non-flowing acidic environments associated with accumulated masses of sphagnum moss while fens have internal flowing groundwater that seeps to the surface and is usually rich in magnesium and calcium, making for a neutral to alkaline environment.  Just remember "fens flow"!

View out across the fen sedge meadow of Cedar Bog

When the early pioneers first started to settle the Mad River valley they found countless tracts of wet, marly fields and meadows full of mosquitoes and curious plants that didn't make for good farm land.  Quickly and with prejudice, the land was drained and transformed to support their agricultural ways while the natural landscape slipped into memory.  The 450+ acres Cedar Bog currently preserves was once a fen complex over 7,000 acres in size.  Imagine 7,000 acres of pristine fen habitat choked full of fascinating flora, massasauga rattlesnakes, spotted turtles, swamp metalmarks, and indigenous brook trout.  I can't fault the settlers for their lack of foresight or preservation but what a sight that must have been.

The Mad River valley was host to a seemingly infinite supply of fen complexes and wetland habitat pre-settlement that served as a reminder to the area's icy past.  Over 12,000 years ago as the Wisconsin glacier receded to the north it left behind a barren landscape of melted ice, glacial till, and boreal plant species from the northern climates.  The previous period's ancient river valleys were filled with gravel and saturated with melt water, which today comprises west-central Ohio's natural aquifers.  In spots where this cold, calcareous groundwater percolates and bubbles to the surface is where these incredible fen communities persisted for thousands of years after the glaciers left, leaving behind the plants and animals you won't see anywhere else in the state today.

Mature male Five-lined Skink (Eumeces fasciatus) on the boardwalk.


Okay, enough of the history lesson even if I could go on and on.  Fens and their histories and biological communities fascinate me to no end and I could blab about them forever!  Now on to the main event and that magical word 'orchid' in the title that probably nabbed your attention.  But not before I share a quick tidbit about one of Cedar Bog's most frequently seen animals.  Pictured above is a critter I'm willing to guarantee just about everyone sees on their stroll down the boardwalk.  Five-lined skinks love to sun themselves on the warm wood and then go scurrying off as your footsteps approach.  Good luck trying to catch one, these guys move like lightning!  Juveniles start off black with five yellowish lines down their backs and tails of the most gorgeous electric blue you've ever seen.  The specimen above is a mature male with its copper-colored body and red face.

Orchids, orchids...I know, I know.  So without testing your patience any further I give you North America's largest terrestrial species of orchid.  An orchid that stole my heart many years ago along these very same creaky boardwalk planks and has yet to release me from its grasp.

Showy Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium reginae)

Scattered along the margins of the northern white cedar (Thuja occidentalis) of which Cedar Bog gets its name, lies one of the greatest botanical shows Ohio puts on each early June.  The showy lady's slipper (Cypripedium reginae) is the largest and last of the slipper orchids to bloom and mother nature certainly knows how to save the best for last.

An 'eat your heart out' clump of Showy Lady's Slippers (Cypripedium reginae)

This is my sixth year in a row heading to Cedar Bog to see the performance and what a spectacle they've been this time around.  While my run isn't nearly what many other local residents, botanists and orchid-lovers have going, I can say this has been the greatest year I've seen them put on in my experience and a number of  other long-time fans are voicing their agreement.  Just look at that clump above!  Nearly two dozen plants all clustered together and topping out over three feet tall under the partial shade of the cedars is a site no one is likely to forget anytime soon.

Showy Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium reginae)

Each flower's pouch or 'labellum' is about the size of a golf ball and delicately painted the most perfect shade of pastel pink to be found in nature.  Depending on what I assume to be a matter of sunlight, the labellum's pigmentation can vary greatly from soft and pale to intense and deeply saturated.  Another common name for these is the queen lady's slipper.  As the binomial nomenclature would have it, the scientific or botanical name for this species is very fitting.  The scientific epithet of reginae translates to 'queen', implicating the regal and majestic beauty of this orchid.  The lady's slippers genus name was conceived from the combination of the Greek word Kypris (for Cypris, the goddess of beauty and love) and the Latin word pedis  (meaning 'foot') as told by Michael Homoya is his brilliant book The Orchids of Indiana.


Showy Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium reginae


Taking a closer look at the inflorescence or 'slipper' of the showy ladies just magnifies their stimulating appeal.  I was happy to have coincidentally timed my visit on an overcast day right after a rain shower had passed through, giving all the slippers an aesthetically pleasing coating of water droplets.  Unfortunately their beauty is not lost on those who seek to remove them from their rightful homes.  Ignoring the heavy loss they have endured from habitat loss due to succession and destruction, these royal plants have long fought the hands and shovels of mankind.  The floral trade, ignorant digging for wildflower gardens and careless picking has removed these plants to the point of extirpation and extinction of populations throughout much of its range.  Even the botanist is to blame in some situations where avid over-collecting depleted their numbers to nothing.  This is one of the those plants that is best touched with our eyes only, despite the human urge to take the beauty home with us.

North American distribution of Cypripedium reginae (courtesty BONAP)

Looking at the distribution map for this species shows how strong an association it has with the northern Canadian provinces and Great Lakes region.  The further south you slip away from the lakes the more rare it becomes due to an increased lack of habitat availability.  Their preferred habitat of fens, northern swamp woods and glacial depressions aren't found further south than Ohio, hence their increase in frequency the further north you go.  Populations in the south, such as in the Appalachians, grow in circumneutral seeps in limestone regions where plants are few in number and locations.  The one vitally important thing an environment must support regardless of geographical location is what's called "cold-bottom" conditions.  These conditions exist when groundwater reaches the surface and saturates the soil to create a constant supply of cold water that this plant needs to survive.  This in turn allows these plants to exist and survive in more southern latitudes whose normal conditions would not otherwise support them.  In many cases where these plants have disappeared despite not much disturbance to the habitat is the result of a change in the hydrology.  It's not just the surface you have to worry about but what's going on underneath as well to keep these orchids happy and alive.

Showy Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium reginae)

An interesting piece of information about this particular species that will probably engage my entomologist readers and friends most is that the showy lady's slipper is apparently the only eastern Cpypripedium that is largely pollinated by flies and beetles rather than bees.  In any case, the insects are attracted inside the labellum by the promise of a nectar meal but are quickly disappointed to find it's a sham and they are forced to retreat back out the way they came.  Upon their exiting they (hopefully) pick up a package of pollen (pollinia in orchid-speak) from the column (the unique orchid organ comprised of fused stamens and pistil) and in a case of instant memory-loss, enter a new labellum in search for that mythical nectar and we have pollination!

Showy Lady's Slipper (Cypripedium reginae)


There truly are few other plants that I can sit in front of and admire their timeless grandeur for what seems like hours on end.  It's not everyday one sits in front of royalty like this and can have such close interaction with them.  A warning must be issued though to all who suffer with frequent bouts of skin irritation and dermatitis.  The dense pubescence of the leaves, stem and pedicels can cause a severe case of dermatitis much like that of poison ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) to those susceptible.

The incredibly early start to this year affected these plants much like the rest and saw the showy lady's slippers start blooming in late May, something I'd never seen before.  The intense heat of last week hastened the freshness of the blooms this year and the show has already passed when under normal circumstances would just be starting.  Be sure to mark late May and early June on your calender for 2013 to see these wondrous plants in action.  Don't fear, there are still many more orchid wonders Cedar Bog has in store for the future and I will be here to bring them to you when they happen!

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Ohio's Native Cactus: Eastern Prickly Pear

One of the most frequently asked questions I get from people on the topic of botany is what's my favorite species of plant.  Well, easier asked than answered is the first thought that comes to mind for myself.  Almost like a parent with multiple children, I really don't think I could pick just any one member from the Plantae kingdom.  I don't hide my passion or obsession with our native, wild orchids and they are certainly well-represented among my favorites.  There's just too much beauty and uniqueness to choose from in the end but one plant I can say ranks high on the ladder's rungs is Ohio's very own indigenous species of cactus.

E. Prickly Pear Cactus (Opuntia humifusa)  Adams county population

Believe it or not Ohio is home to a species of cactus native to select areas of the state where xeric, sandy soil deposits exist.  Each late spring and early summer the plants come alive with gorgeous golden blooms that delicately sit on top of the mature cactus pads.  This makes them a popular ornamental addition to homeowner's rock gardens and sun-drenched flowerbeds.

E. Prickly Pear Cactus (Opuntia humifusa)  Adams county population

Unfortunately, the reality of being so crowd-pleasing has caused this already uncommon species in Ohio to become even more rare in the wild to the point of being state-listed as potentially-threatened.  The continued digging and collecting of these remarkable plants along with its ever-shrinking habitat puts this species at risk of disappearing across its already small natural range here.  I'd much rather have the chance to see this stunning plant bloom in its natural habitat than in cultivation in someone's yard.

North American distribution of Opuntia humifusa (courtesy BONAP)

Opuntia humifusa is the only wide-ranging species of prickly pear in eastern North America; stretching from southern New England to the eastern fringes of the Great Plains.  Here in Ohio, it's restricted to the sandy dunes and savannas of the Oak Openings region in the northwest as well as scattered counties in the south.  It grows well in areas of full sun on very well-drained sandy soils in dry, rocky fields and barrens.

E. Prickly Pear Cactus (Opuntia humifusa)  Adams county population

Come June the tightened buds unfurl their inner elegance in the forms of multi-petaled satin yellow flowers choked full of stamens.  Each individual flower only lasts a single day but luckily large colonies of plants have plenty of buds and can bloom more or less continuously for up to a month.  Some exceedingly colorful flowers exhibit an inner ring of burnt orange-red  that takes their already dashing looks to the next level.  It's no surprise then that insects flock to this plant to meet their sustenance needs.  Between the mesmerizing color of the inflorescence and the pollen-covered stamens, this truly is crack cocaine for bees.

E. Prickly Pear Cactus (Opuntia humifusa)  Adams county population 

I think just about everyone can fall in love with the prickly pears due to their good looks but even more so from the satisfaction that just about anyone can identify them.  Even asking a random person walking down the street would result in the correct answer of a 'cactus'.  The fleshy pads of the prickly pear start a fresh green color but slowly fade to a glaucous blue-green hue as they mature and age under the heat of the harsh sun.  Fortunately, these plants are very easy to propagate from cuttings and can be successfully grown from seed as well.  With a little research and patience people can safely grow these plants at home without harming natural populations.  Although, as always, it's best to just buy them from a nursery.

E. Prickly Pear Cactus (Opuntia humifusa).  Oak Openings population

A brightly colored patch of prickly pears in the Oak Openings region is one of my favorite sights each year that I anxiously await to see in the sandy dunes and fields.  Even driving 60 miles an hour down the road with your eyes focused straight ahead isn't enough to miss these out of your peripheral vision with a subsequent slamming of the breaks to get a better look.

E. Prickly Pear Cactus (Opuntia humifusa).  Oak Openings population

If you want to catch these prickly wonders in bloom then now's the time to head out and see them for yourselves.  The Oak Openings region in northwest Ohio is your best bet with Kitty Todd nature preserve and the metro park outside Toledo having plenty of chances to see them.  For those in the southern sections of Ohio you can see these in the sandy springs area of Adams county along the Ohio River as well as other rocky, sandy areas in the vicinity.