The Life and Death of a Succulent Flower

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Friends,

Dear Bernice is very occupied with preparation for her Tuesday talk as well with many literary deadlines so I have this opportunity to briefly take over her blog.

Bernice recently featured some pictures of a little succulent plant she received as a gift about five years ago and which has led a very passive and unassuming existence on our kitchen window sill ever since. I am not very systematic nor faithful in my plant watering duties but this plant survived my casual care nonetheless but never showed any signs of growth in its confined little pot. That is, until about three weeks ago when I noticed a fast growing stalk thrusting itself upwards covered with a spray of incipient flowers. My attention was riveted to this display and my thoughts were stimulated by musings of the marvelous variety in which plants propagate. Each day I watched with interest and pleasure to see just what kind of flower would emerge.

A great deal can be deduced from seeing a plant’s flowers. In the wild, I assume that our plant grows for years with a low profile, probably nestled among similar neighbors, and suddenly one Spring it thrusts this fast-growing stem high over its fellows and from this height beckons to potential pollinators. Plants can be termed generalists or specialists in the strategies they employ in using their flowers to distribute their pollen so it successfully reaches other flowers of their own species. The generalists include those carefree types depending on the wind to somehow find a mate (much to the displeasure of hay fever sufferers) and also the free-for-all types like magnolias and forsythias that hope that any insect or bird visiting their flowers will transport its pollen to an appropriate species mate. The most notable generalist pollinator is the bee, known for its proverbial industry and able to direct its hive members to literally blanket a stand of flowering plants. So efficient and necessary are bees to modern agriculture that beekeepers bring their hives to orchards and stands of trees such as the almond to assure successful pollination. Before man’s invention of agriculture and its intense concentration of identical flowers, bees never had it so good. In recent years Colony Collapse Disorder has destroyed large number of hives but there seems to be recent progress in finding a cure.

The specialists have formed a partnership to increase the odds of a successful pollen delivery. The evidence of our plant’s flowers is that it is such a specialist that has forged a very long-term relationship with a particular pollinator. Such relationships are formed over millions of years through the wonder of coevolution. The beaks of certain hummingbirds and the tongues of certain moths and butterflies exquisitely match the contours of the flowers they visit to obtain nectar. Such matches are often so extreme that the pollinator makes exclusive visits to the flowers of their partner. Darwin, who wrote about coevolution, once famously observed a flower during one of his travels in the tropics that had a very long, narrow passage to its nectar treasure and he stated that there was undoubtedly a single pollinator that visited this plant. Forty years later a moth was found whose long tongue exactly matched the flower’s entry tunnel. This arrangement has benefits for both partners. The lock and key match assures the plant that its pollen will be delivered to its own species and not be frittered away at foreign flowers. The pollinators can be assured of a plentiful nectar supply not available to its competitors.

These long lasting partnerships are generally very stable unless something extraordinary happens to one of the partners. A famous instance of the shattering of such a symbiotic relationship involves the destruction of every last Dodo bird on the island of Mauritus. This small isolated island is off the east coast of Madagascar which is, in turn, off the east coast of Africa. Mauritus was evidently isolated for millions of years during which unique plants and animals evolved. Sailors arrived and found the Dodo bird, a large wingless bird having never experienced any predator and therefore exhibited no fear. The birds were indiscriminately slaughtered for their meat. One hundred years after the Dodos’ extinction it was noticed that no young Calvaria trees (thanks for the name Google) could be found. This is a towering hardwood tree that was slowly going extinct until its relation to the Dodo was discovered. The tree produces very large, hard nuts that the Dodo swallowed and digested only the outer husk and left the seed to grow in its rich excrement. I knew the outlines of this sad episode and thought the tree had also gone extinct but helpful Google again directed to more recent information. The number of viable trees had shrunk to thirteen when wild turkeys were introduced that fulfilled the Dodo’s former mission.

But, back to our little plant. I can only speculate on the identity of the plant’s pollinator. The colorful flowers are probably an attractant to a small flying insect. My own nose detects no fragrance but that might be present to a more attuned and sensitive instrument. The drooping flowers have only a small opening that could permit either a long tongue of a moth or butterfly. Alternately, a troupe of small flying midges might be the desired visitors. Unfortunately, no hints will be forthcoming as its sits on the kitchen window sill.

I thought that the flowers might open but was surprised and saddened to see that the flowers near the base that had first developed, were now shrinking and withering. Look at the lower two flowers in the photo. Our poor little plant had made a valiant effort but has not fully realized it potential. It has given us pleasure.

May we all enjoy the glories of this Spring,

Merwin