Floral Rarities at the Saratoga Battlefield

On one of the few days last week that thrashing afternoon thunderstorms were NOT in the forecast, my fellow nature-nut pal Sue Pierce alerted me: "Hey, we should go see if that Winged Monkey Flower survived all the torrents that must have raced through their ravine."  It was Sue herself who first alerted us some years ago to this state-ranked Rare plant (Mimulus alatus), recognizing it as an unusual plant even when shriveled and brown in the fall some years ago.  And so far, the stream-watered ravine at the Saratoga Battlefield National Historical Park where Sue first espied it remains the only place we have ever seen it. And early August is when it usually blooms.  So off to the Saratoga Battlefield we went to check on it.  

Above, Sue gazes across some of the 3,000 acres of open meadows and forested hills, serene and peaceful now, where, back in the fall of 1777, American revolutionary soldiers achieved a huge victory over British forces. This victory proved that America could win this war to achieve independence from England and convinced France to join forces with the Americans, a turning point that led to America's ultimate victory. 

This historic site now attracts thousands of visitors to its many exhibits relating to this battle, but it's also a beautiful park that attracts botanizers like Sue and me and other nature-lovers to explore its natural wonders. The meadows today were a sea of yellow Goldenrod blooms, punctuated by the purple blooms of Wild Bergamot and Joe Pye Weed and alive with the fluttering of hundreds of flying insects.

The recent torrential rainstorms had battered many of the meadow's wildflowers, but this Silver-spotted Skipper had managed to find some Wild Bergamot florets intact enough to offer it some nectar.

We were soon happy to seek the shade of the forested ravine where Sue first discovered our sought-after population of Winged Monkey Flowers. Torrential rains earlier this week had doubtless filled this creek to roaring, but the flow had returned to a gentle trickle by now.

Ah, but those rushing torrents had not been so gentle on the masses of Winged Monkey Flowers that now lay flattened along the creekbed.

Even while flattened, some of the Winged Monkey Flowers still bore undamaged blooms.

I could lift one flower stalk up to display the distinctive traits of this species, namely, the very short flower stalks and the long leaf stems that display the wings that suggested this native wildflower's name.

As my photo of the Common Monkey Flower (Mimulus ringens) reveals, the leaf and flower attachments are just the opposite on this much more common species, which has long flower stalks and sessile leaves. I find this species along the Hudson River and other waterways as well, but not here at the Saratoga Battlefield.

As it happened, those Winged Monkey Flowers were not the only rare plant we found on our visit to the Saratoga Battlefield today. Or more correctly, as SUE found today, while she was driving the road that winds through the park.  Sue noticed this very tall flowering plant with clusters of bright purple flowers growing along the road, and she believed it could be one of our two native species of Ironweed (Vernonia sp.) As soon as we met in the park's parking lot, Sue drove me to the site where she spied this plant, and I climbed down the bank to take a closer look at it.

As soon as I noticed the bracts on the involucres (the cup-like structures that hold the florets), I realized that Sue had found the species called Tall Ironweed (Vernonia gigantea).  Tall Ironweed is rated as an Endangered species in New York State.  Count on eagle-eyed Sue to spot another rare flower!

How did I recognize this plant as Tall Ironweed at a glance?  It was because I had frequently seen the more common species, New York Ironweed (V. novaeboracensis), a native species that is often planted in domestic gardens.  New York Ironweed grows in the raingarden outside the Nature Center at Moreau Lake State Park, which is where I took this next photo, which shows the distinctive long threads that extend from each of the involucral bracts.  The bracts on Tall Ironweed are pointed, but they do not end with long threads like this. The two species also differ in the number of florets each involucre contains (13-30 for V. gigantea; 30-50 for V. novaeboracensis), but the presence of thready projections (or lack thereof) is usually significant enough to determine the species. Sue sent a photo off to iNaturalist, which promptly supported my assessment.

So Sue's unerring sense for the unusual served her once again! Chalk up another great floral find for the Saratoga National Historical Park, thanks to Sue.

And guess what? Sue later emailed me a photo she had taken of ANOTHER Ironweed plant (in fact, TWO plants), which she spied along the park road as she was driving toward home.  We have not examined it closely enough to determine which species it is, but why would it NOT be the rare one?

As for MY fun find this day, mine was more faunal than floral. And I am not sure of either the floral species or the faunal.  Growing along the stone wall that surrounds the Saratoga Battlefield parking lot, were several patches of Pussytoes (Antennaria species), a smallish species of Pussytoes with overlapping frosted leaves. And dotting these plants were galls that resembled small white rosebuds. So pretty! With Google's help, I identified two insects whose larvae form galls on plants of the Antennaria genus. I wonder if one of them made these. The Everlasting Bud Midge (Asphondylia antennariae) or the Everlasting Tebenna Moth (Rhopalomyia antennariae)? Anybody know?  Or can anyone confirm the species of Pussytoes? My Newcomb's Wildflower Guide offers an entry called Smaller Pussytoes (A. howellii ssp. neodioica), described as having overlapping leaves that are dull green and woolly that end in a tiny abrupt point. Informed opinions would be gratefully welcomed in the comments.

Return of the Gentians!

The rains had finally stopped! A kind sun emerged last Friday to dry out our soaked and battered earth and allow our swollen creeks and ponds to settle down a bit. My friend Ruth and I headed up to one of our favorite ponds in northern Saratoga County, hoping to find that the fabulous array of native wildflowers that normally beautify its banks had survived the torrential downpours.

Ruth's smile says it all about how happy we were to be in our boats again on this perfect little Adirondack pond.

The water in the pond was certainly high, flooding the edges of the shore a foot or so up the banks, but at least the drainage culverts had not clogged, which happened 5 years ago, allowing the water to rise far up into the woods.  That flood killed almost all of the shoreline conifers and wiped out most of the shoreline wildflowers for several seasons to come.  We were hoping to discover today a continued further resurgence of those pondside plants.

We were glad to see that healthy stands of Bunchberry, Clintonia, and Dalibarda had repopulated the banks, but the recent torrential rains seemed to have knocked the berries and flower petals off the plants. The plants all looked healthy and green, but we missed the colorful display of blue and red berries and snow-white flowers we would normally enjoy seeing this time in the summer.

I fear, though, that the once abundant population of Small Green Wood Orchids (Platanthera clavellata) may take many more years to recover. Where over a hundred once thrived around the pond, I found just this solitary specimen.  But at least it was in full bloom for us to enjoy!

The wildflowers we were most excited to see recovering were the Narrow-leaved Gentians (Gentiana linearis), beaming their gorgeously radiant blue flowers every few feet along the shore. Not yet the thousand or more we once counted here pre-flood, but at least several dozens,  re-establishing their domain most of the way around the pond. (The green-bud-topped small stalks below the gentian belong to some Round-leaved Sundew plants, their basal leaves now underwater.)

Multi-flowered clusters of Narrow-leaved Gentians shone forth from fern-dominated shores.

Where the flowers of shoreline gentians toppled into the water, they floated upright like cobalt-blue water lilies.

There were so many gentian flowers topping this stalk, I could hardly count them.  I am hoping such healthy-looking plants signal the return of this incredibly beautiful native wildflower to its former flood-ravaged site. I have seen this flower along other waterways, but never in such abundance as along the shores of this pond.

This gentian abundance continued almost all the way around the pond, including parts of the sun-drenched south-facing shore.  I loved the sight of the vivid-blue gentians sharing their shore with the pink-flowered stalks of Steeplebush (Spiraea tomentosa).

We encountered many other beauties as we paddled around this pond. When the sun shone through the boughs of this Mountain Holly shrub (Ilex mucronata), its vivid-red berries appeared as if lit from within.

A fluffy tuft of pale-pink Meadowsweet (Spiraea alba) was displayed to perfection against the dark shade of the forested bank.

The bedrock-lined, Hemlock-crowned banks of the pond displayed a dramatic beauty of their own. Ruth, possessing a deep interest in mosses and liverworts, enjoyed exploring every crevice in the rocks to see what bryophyte treasures they might hold.

At the east end of the pond, we pushed our canoes through thick patches of burreeds and marshgrasses until any further progress was impeded by a beaver dam that stretched the entire width of the pond. (The dam is behind us in this photo.)

In a quiet cove, the dark still water reflected this patch of Pickerelweed (Pontederia cordata) with intensified beauty.

This Great Blue Heron held its regal pose long enough to capture in a photo.

After beaching our boats, I examined some Common Milkweed plants (Asclepias syriaca) to see who might be dining on its leaves.  I am almost always certain to find a Red Milkweed Beetle or two.  This beetle must have just begun to prepare for its lunch, since it had yet to sever a leaf-vein upstream from where it will dine on the leaf edge, preventing the sticky latex from gluing its jaws shut.

Where we stopped at a local tavern to have some lunch ourselves, this stand of Joe-Pye-Weed by the parking lot was providing a meal for this gorgeous Tiger Swallowtail Butterfly. A beautiful close to our morning's adventure on that beautiful pond!

Up and Down the River on a Sunday Afternoon

There's a beautiful stretch of the Hudson River that flows below the Spier Falls Dam, where forested mountains fall directly to the water's edge, and small islands lie just offshore. I have been paddling this stretch for more than 30 years. Back in the early 1990s, I hardly ever met another paddler on the water here, even on the weekends, but that's not the case anymore.  Especially on weekends when the weather is fine, the river now beckons many paddlers and motorboats, and I usually choose to avoid swelling that crowd. Ah, but the nicest day last week was on Sunday, and with rainstorms promised nearly every day for the coming week, I doubted I'd want to paddle then.  And this was the time the Smaller Purple Fringed Orchids (Platanthera psycodes) should be blooming along these shores.  If I wanted to see them flowering this year, the time was NOW!

Sure enough, the parking lot at the boat-launch site was full to overflowing, but when I got on the water, I saw hardly any other boats in sight.  Those I did see were out in the middle of the river, and the middle is not where I paddle. I had the shoreline completely to myself as I headed upstream.

I like to creep along as close to the shore as I can move without scraping the bottom of my canoe on underwater rocks. For I'm not here to see how fast and far I can paddle, but rather to see what's blooming among the bedrock and tree roots that line the shore. I was hoping those Purple Fringed Orchids would be among the flowers I'd find today.  The tiny little Azure Bluets (Houstonia caerulea) were a sweet surprise.

Well, I didn't find those purple orchids where I'd found them along this shore in other years.  I did find lots of other flowers, though.  And at first, most of them were yellow.  Quite a few plants of Spotted St. John's Wort (Hypericum punctatum) were leaning over the banks. I could even get close enough to their speckled petals to see how this native wildflower might have acquired the descriptive name "spotted." (Or is it the leaves that have spots?)

A second species of St. John's Wort also grew close to the water's edge, the Pale St. John's Wort (Hypericum ellipticum).  Which is anything but pale! This wildflower has bright yellow flowers, vibrant orange buds, and seed pods of a brilliant scarlet.

There were other yellow flowers close to the water's edge, including this Yellow Loosestrife (Lysimachia terrestris), which also bears the vernacular name "Swamp Candles."

This next yellow-flowered plant is called Fringed Loosestrife (Lysimachia ciliata). To see how this plant acquired the descriptive "fringed" part of its name, you have to look closely at its leaves, not the flowers.

Here's a close-up photo of those fringes (cilia) on the leaf petioles:

So far, I'd found no purple flowers to excite me to take a closer look, but there were a few white ones. The low-growing Wintergreen plants (Gaultheria procumbens) dangled small white bells from the middle of its waxy green leaves.

A thriving patch of Pearly Everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea) bore clusters of small white flowers atop its dusty-green leafy stalks.

Lovely tufts of pink-tinged white flowers of Meadowsweet (Spiraea alba) leaned out toward the sunlight from shaded banks.

A flower-bedecked vine of Virgin's Bower (Clematis virginiana) sprawled its way among other riverside greenery.

What almost resembled a green-petaled flower atop a stalk of glossy green leaves was actually the beginning of what later will be a cluster of gorgeously blue Closed Gentian flowers (Gentiana clausa).

And these funny little spiky growths are the developing seed pods of what were the yellow flowers of American Bush Honeysuckle (Diervilla lonicera), a native shrub quite abundant along these shores.

Several species of ferns decorate the shady banks of the river, and I found this thick cluster of graceful Long Beech Fern fronds (Phegopteris connectilis) nestled in among rocks particularly beautiful.

Sadly, I was not happy at all to find THIS: a fish hook and bobber dangling on fishing line from an overhanging tree limb. I once managed to free a tiny Wood Duck duckling from just such a dangling hook piercing its soft beak, while its mother desperately tried to lure me away from her darling. So I have witnessed the agony such carelessness can cause for innocent wildlife.

When I reached this steep section of bedrock bank, I believed that any further search for those sought-after orchids along this shore was futile. Any I had found on this side of the river in past years were growing on shore before I reached this site.  

Ah, but I once found some Purple Fringed Orchids blooming on the opposite shore from here.

So I turned my canoe around and headed downstream and toward the other bank.

As I approached the opposite shore, my hopes were roused as I spied a pinky-purple spike of bloom tucked in among the Marsh Ferns close to the water. Ignoring the tall Blue Vervains blooming further back among the bulrushes, I moved in for a closer view.

Nope!  It was a pretty spike of Steeplebush (Spiraea tomentosa), but not a Purple Fringed Orchid.

But I was glad my desire to investigate that purple spike of bloom had lured me close enough to the shore to discover these tiny Marsh Bellflowers (Campanula aparinoides) nearly hidden among the shoreline greenery. These miniature native wildflowers flowers have such fine stems that they sprawl among the neighboring plants that often hide them from view. I think they are adorable!

It was time to head for home, and as I passed the largest island that lay between me and the parking area, I noticed a patch of Narrow-leaved Mountain Mint (Picnanthemum tenuifolium) growing close to the water.  I always have to pinch a few leaves of this exceeding minty-smelling plant to breathe in that fragrance.

Many leafy green stems protruded from the very shallow water that surrounds this island.  Several years ago, while observing these plants with noted botanist Nancy Slack, she suspected that these were the species of St. John's Wort called Northern St. John's Wort (Hypericum boreale), but that was never ascertained.  Eventually, they will bear 5-petaled flowers typical of that genus, but I was never sure they weren't simply Pale St. John's Worts that had made their way out from shore when the water was low. Someday, I hope to settle this case!

While paddling over this very shallow water, I was delighted to see hundreds of the spiky basal leaves of Northern Pipewort (Eriocaulon aquaticum) decorating the underwater mud.

And guess what?  Look what I found at last! A Smaller Purple Fringed Orchid, in full beautiful bloom!  It was growing almost exactly where I had found it in previous years, but it only revealed itself where it hid among surrounding plants, now that I approached it from the opposite direction.  Who could guess that such a large showy flower could hide so well?  I can only hope it may continue to hide from others who may not appreciate our state laws that attempt to protect native orchids.