A Two-Orchid Afternoon on the River

For fear that the Hudson might have been mobbed with boaters last Sunday, I almost decided not to paddle there, despite the day being perfect for doing so. But I'm awfully glad I changed my mind.  There WERE many boaters on the river, to be sure, but all were other paddlers, not power-boaters whipping up wakes, and all of them were quietly paddling out in the middle of the river, not ambling along close to the shady banks as I was.

I always amble along close to shore, for that's how I find the marvelous number of wildflowers that crowd the riverbanks, here in this catchment between the Sherman Island and Spier Falls hydroelectric dams.  And I was on a quest today, to find a particular flower.   A few years ago, I had found the little native orchid called Shining Ladies' Tresses (Spiranthes lucida) along this shore,  and I hoped to find it again. 

The Shining Ladies' Tresses is our earliest Ladies' Tresses species to bloom in this region,  and it can be distinguished from all other members of its genus by the yellow lower lips of the flowers of its spikes.  And there it was! There was only this solitary plant, which is all I have ever found at this location,  growing so close to the water's edge, I always fear it might get washed away when the river floods. Some years I don't find it.  But happily, this year, I did!

My next destination was a group of small islands not far off-shore, and my next quest was for one more native orchid, the Tubercled Orchid (Platanthera flava) that I had found on one of these islands in years past.

And again, my quest was met with success.  But only partly so.  In other years, I have found as many as 20 of these small yellow-flowered orchids growing in just one spot, close to the water's edge on only one of these islands. But this time, I found only two.   I'm hoping the others are just resting up to return another year.

I'm happy to report, though, that another plant that shares this small island with the Tubercled Orchids was doing just fine. There must have been hundreds of the native wildflower called Blue-eyed Grass (Sisyrinchium sp.) sprinkling the ground with their vivid blue flowers.  I did not examine the green parts of these plants closely enough to be able to distinguish which species they were, dazzled as I was by their blue prettiness. This flower is related to our native Wild Blue Flag.

Another flower I was happy to find today was this one called Small Sundrops (Oenothera perennis). Low to the ground beneath taller plants, these bright-yellow blooms live up to their name by shining out from their shade like little suns. I love that a tiny Bluet joined the group to add a dash of complementary color.

A Hidden Bog, Abundant Arethusas

Is there any native orchid quite so lovely as this Dragon's Mouth Orchid (Arethusa bulbosa)?  It is quite a rare one, too, listed as a Threatened (S2) species in New York State.  And even if you know where to find them, it's not always that easy to get to where they grow -- as my friends Sue and Ruth and I experienced this past week when we struggled through difficult terrain to reach a hidden Adirondack bog in search of these rare and beautiful orchids.

In another year, Ruth had visited this bog where the Dragon's Mouth Orchids grow, so she knew how to get to it.  And she did warn us that we'd have to work a bit to get there: first, a mile or so hike along an old logging road, then a descent through a swampy forest where we teetered over moss-covered logs to avoid slipping into the ankle-deep mud and pushed through the clawing branches of alder and spruce thickets to finally step out under the sky and onto the sphagnum-cushioned bog mat that ringed this isolated kettle pool. (Don't ask me where it is, for I am sworn to secrecy about its location.)

By the time our exploration of this bog was over, we had counted somewhere around 25 specimens of those gorgeous Dragon's Mouth Orchids.  But the first flower we noticed -- and how could we miss them? -- were the hundreds of scarlet blooms of Northern Pitcher Plants (Sarracenia purpurea) standing tall above the low Leatherleaf shrubs (Chamaedaphne calyculata).

Here's a closer look at one of the Pitcher Plant's vividly lipstick-red flowers.

As it happened, the Pitcher Plant flowers grew so thick,  I happened to brush against one and topple it, breaking its stem in the process.  Of course, I regretted my clumsiness, but at least it gave me a chance to observe the interior of this large bulbous bloom.  I'm not sure how to name the various parts I found in there, except to assume that the floppy yellow-topped structures are probably the stamens. Perhaps the globular structure with the pebbled surface would be the ovary?

Looking around the bog mat, we observed many other plants that are typical denizens of a northern bog.  Notably, there were dozens of rather short Tamarack trees (Larix laricina) and many shrubs of Sheep Laurel (Kalmia angustifolia) bearing their vivid-pink flower buds.

A few of the Sheep Laurel shrubs bore clusters of wide-open blooms.  If you look close, you can see the flower's anthers tucked into tiny niches in the petals, cocked and ready to spring loose and bop a visiting insect, covering it with pollen.

We found lots of evidence of Bog Laurel, too (Kalmia polifolia). Although the flowers had dropped some time ago, in their place were these small apple-red seedpods, each with a long pistillate structure protruding.

The Bog Rosemary shrubs, too, had dropped their flowers and now displayed the pretty pink seedpods typical of their species.  Andromeda polifolia is Bog Rosemary's scientific name.

Bog Buckbean (Menyanthes trifoliata) is a third pod-bearing plant that is typical of this habitat. Although the pods were still green, it was obvious how similar in structure its pods were to those of Bog Laurel and Bog Rosemary.

We felt lucky to discover at least this one single flower of Bog Buckbean still present on its plant.  I know of no other flower of our region that displays such thready structures on its petals. 

I can often detect a spicy, astringent scent when I walk through a northern bog, and I believe that fragrance is emitted by the leathery, orange-fuzz-backed leaves of Labrador Tea (Rhododendron groenlandicum). I have never sniffed any fragrance from its lovely flower clusters, but if I pinch one of its leaves, I discover the source of that delightful scent. The bog we walked this day was redolent of it.

Dotting the sphagnum mat almost everywhere were these light-pink cranberry blooms (Vaccinium sp.), appearing nearly globular because of such strongly reflexed petals.  Their pale color made them quite evident against the dark red of this particular sphagnum, possibly the species called Big Red (Sphagnum magellanicum).  I confess I did not examine these cranberry plants sufficiently well to determine whether they were the Large Cranberry (V. macrocarpon) or the Small Cranberry (V. oxycoccos).

In many areas of the mat, the red sphagnum was mixed with another that was colored a deep gold. The combination reminded me of a Persian carpet.

As we neared the edge of the pond that centered this bog, we could detect the sphagnum mat growing thinner, and we stayed well back to lessen the danger of our plunging through.  But when I spied these bright-yellow  blooms of a bladderwort right at the water's edge, I risked a closer look to see if I could discover its species. I could detect no protruding narrow spur, so that ruled out Common Bladderwort or Horned Bladderwort.  Also, it seemed way too early in the summer for Humped Bladderwort to bloom, and that species usually has tiny flowers.  Could this be the early blooming species called Flat-leaved Bladderwort (Utricularia intermedia)? 

I poked a finger down into the water beneath the bladderwort blooms, and sure enough, there I managed to bring up these distinctive miniature-bottle-brush leaf structures that could only be those belonging to Flat-leaved Bladderwort. (Most other species of bladderwort have no leaves at all, depending on their underwater sucking structures to obtain their nutrients.)

As I mentioned above, we eventually found at least 25 of the blooming Dragon's Mouth Orchids in one limited area of the bog, their vivid hot-pink flowers easy to see as they protruded a foot or so above the sphagnum. We also found the swelling buds of another beautiful bog orchid called Grass Pink (Calopogon tuberosus), as well as the barely-budding stems of another orchid we suspect will be the White Fringed Orchid (Platanthera blephariglottis),  both of which should begin to bloom in another week or two. Luckily, we know other places to find both of those orchids, places that are significantly easier to access than this bog we explored today, as well as being closer to home. We began to grow weary from slogging through sphagnum, and, aware that we still had a challenging walk to reach our cars and then a long drive home, we exited this amazing and beautiful bog.

We halted a moment, though, to marvel at this dragonfly only recently freed from the confines of its larval skin, preparing to take flight as soon as its wings had expanded and dried.

Another delightful find as we made our weary way through the woods was this small patch of Twinflower (Linnaea borealis), each miniature plant dangling a single pair of small pink-striped flowers.

We occasionally had to teeter from hummock to hummock to avoid slipping into the mud. But when I noticed this hummock was covered with the glossy-green liverwort called Bazzania trilobata as well as the pretty vining stems of Creeping Snowberry (Gaultheria hispidula), I chose another hummock to balance my steps.

New Floral Finds on the Hoosic Shore

When my Thursday Naturalist friends and I semi-annually visit Canal Park in Rensselaer County, we usually  confine our searches to the woods along the high banks of the Champlain Canal and the Hoosic River, as well as a rich alluvial plain where some of our native plants like Green Dragon, Giant Ragweed, and Joe Pye Weed grow to prodigious size.  But as a group, we have never ventured out on the low rocky shore of the Hoosic as it approaches its junction with the Hudson River downstream.  Some of our friends might find it too risky to navigate the irregularly eroded jagged shale, or hop across puddles slippery with silt.  But my friend Ruth Brooks and I took our chances on this somewhat daunting terrain last Thursday, curious to see what we might find in this previously unexplored territory.

Last September, Ruth and I had found the exceedingly rare Provancher's Fleabane thriving in abundant numbers at this same location, with over 200 specimens growing directly out of the steep shale cliffs.  So we were initially startled to see flowering fleabanes growing at the same location so soon in the year.  But since it seemed much too early for these flowering plants to be that rare species, we surmised that these must be Philadelphia Fleabane (Erigeron philadelphicus var. philadelphicus), another native fleabane that is as exceedingly common as the Provancher's Fleabane is rare.  [Provancher's Fleabane (Erigeron philadelphicus var. provancheri) is rated as an Endangered species (S1) in New York State. It has been found only on exposed high-pH rocky ledges along rivers.]

UPDATE: As it turns out, these short fleabanes actually ARE the super-rare Provancher's Fleabane.  A week later, a rare-plant monitor from the New York Natural Heritage Program asked me to show him these plants, which he careful measured and analyzed.   Eventually, he determined them to be the Provancher's variety instead of the much more common Philadelphia Fleabane.   Big surprise!

There is another rare plant besides Provancher's Fleabane that grows along these shale banks, called Creeping Bushclover (Lespedeza repens), which is listed as a Rare plant (S3) in New York State. We had found it here last September when its trailing stems were full of bright-purple flower clusters.  Here's what those flowers had looked like back then:

Of course, it was much too early in the summer for us to expect to find those flowers in bloom, but we did recognize Creeping Bushclover's sprawling stems and three-parted leaves even without the flowers. We were happy to see that this large mat of trailing stems was at least as extensive as it was last year, if not even larger.

It amazes me to find so many flowers capable of growing directly out of these steep banks of jagged shale. The fine-stemmed, purple-flowered Harebell (Campanula rotundifolia) is surely one of the prettiest, its delicate appearance contrasting so strongly with the ruggedness of the rock.

But the Carolina Rose (Rosa carolina) rivals all other flowers here for beauty, and it certainly out-competes them all for fragrance!  There were masses of them clinging to the bare rock, and the riverside breeze carried their sun-warmed fragrance to us with every breath we took. This is a low-growing native rose that can be distinguished from the similar Virginia Rose by its large pink flowers that grow singly instead of in small clusters.

Among the several native shrubs that cling to these cliffs, this native Bush Honeysuckle (Diervilla lonicera) caught our eye because of the pretty yellow flowers that grew at the end of each branch.

We were not surprised to find White Beardtongue (Penstemon digitalis) here, since many plants of it grow in the low banks along the nearby Champlain Canal.  When our Thursday Naturalist group was here just a week before, the plants had borne only buds, but today those buds had opened to reveal the furry style that no doubt had suggested this plant's vernacular name of "beardtongue".  The flowers' similarity to those of Foxglove also suggested both this plant's scientific name and its alternate vernacular name of Foxglove Beardtongue.

Finally, here was a plant that I believe none of us had ever encountered here at Canal Park, the prettily purple-tinged flower called Hairy Beardtongue (Penstemon hirsutus). The flowers are indeed hairy, but an even more immediately apparent distinguishing feature is the way the flower tubes abruptly narrow as they approach the calyx.  

Our Thursday group has kept a record of all the plants we have found at Canal Park, and I don't believe this species has been recorded by our group as yet. But today, we found just scads of them out here on the shaley shore. So I am going to sign off now, and then send a link to this post to my friends in the Thursday Naturalists so the record can be updated.

Looking for Loesel's Twayblade

Why do I do this to myself? It was so hot and humid today, my glasses were swimming off my nose before I had gone ten yards along the east end of Bog Meadow Brook Nature Trail.  This early part of the trail moves along an open marsh with no trees shading the path, and the deerflies and mosquitoes didn't mind at all being baked by the sun as they sought my sweat-drenched flesh.  But I was on a quest.  A wee little orchid called Loesel's Twayblade (Liparis loeselii) should be blooming now along this end of the trail, and I was determined to find it.

Even though I have seen this orchid here many times over the past few years, I am always anxious about finding it once more.  By the time it begins to bloom in June, all other trailside plants will be dwarfing it, and since it's a very small, slender, grass-colored plant, it sure isn't easy to spy.  This photo of a Royal Fern amid its surrounding greenery can give you an idea of what the habitat looks like:

As I walked along, I did enjoy all the other wildflowers that caught my eye.  The flowers of Marsh Bedstraw (Galium palustre) are even tinier than those of the orchid I sought, but being bright-white, they shone like tiny stars from the dark greens along the trail, this native wildflower's weak stems sprawling amid the other plants.

Another bright-white flower, the Canada Anemone (Anemone canadensis) was also abundant along the trail.

The showiest flowers today were the big clusters adorning abundant Smooth Arrowwood shrubs (Viburnum dentatum var. lucidum).   I was delighted today not only by the beauty of this shrub's flowers, but also by the healthy appearance of the sharply toothed leaves.  For several years, this species of viburnum was a favorite target of the invasive Viburnum Leaf Beetle, and much of the regional population was completely defoliated.  I can only hope that the healthiness of this particular population is an indication that that beetle has done its worst, and that somehow the threat has diminished.

I often find seedpods as interesting as their flowers, and that's certainly the case with Spotted Geranium seedpods (Geranium maculatum). Observing those long star-tipped protrusions, it's obvious why this plant is sometimes referred to as a Cranesbill.  I always think these seedpods look like something that might have been drawn by Dr. Seuss.

When the unique, star-shaped seedpods of Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris) split open, we can see all the seeds nestled within, like peas in a pod.

As for colorful flowers, they were pretty rare along the trail today.  But the rosy-red new leaves of this sapling shrub of Gray Dogwood (Cornus racemosa) provided plenty of color of their own.

And the brilliant glossy-red of this ripe Dwarf Raspberry (Rubus pubescens) shone like a sparkling ruby amid its low green leaves.

When I reached the spot on the trail where I sensed I must be close to where I had found the Loesel's Twayblade in other years, I was dismayed to discover that the long-established dirt mounds that used to serve as landmarks had been leveled, probably to expedite mowing along the trail.  But soon my searching feet found the remnants of a rotting railroad tie, now buried in mosses and grasses, that had also signaled the right site over the years. Pushing aside the grasses and horsetails, I soon spied not only this year's glossy leaves and flower stalk in full bloom, but also a stalk of last year's tan seedpods still in evidence next to this year's plant. (The rust-red color of the stream at this site is probably caused by the presence of iron in the soil along the stream bottom.)

All the hot, sweaty, bug-bitten discomforts of today's search diminished beside the delight I felt when I looked at this photo.  It is very difficult for my camera to clearly focus on a wispy green flower against a green background, but today I finally got a photo of this orchid's flowers that was clear enough to display the intricate structures of the florets.  While still not perfect, this photo does display the tiny yellow dots of the flower's sticky pollen bundles (called pollinia), a feature that is unique to orchids. When an insect lands on these florets in search of nectar, the pollen bundles will stick to the insect, to be carried off to the next orchid nearby, where that orchid's distinctive receptor organ will snatch the bundles to achieve its own pollination.  Very cool!

A Plethora of Plants, All Over the Place!

I'm surrounded by so many botanical treasures here in northeastern New York, I can hardly keep up with them as they make their appearance! Just in the first three days of June I searched and found Wild Calla, Bog Laurel, Labrador Tea, Three-leaved False Solomon's Seal, and Virginia Chain Fern in a Warren County sphagnum bog; Glaucous Honeysuckle and Bunchberry blooming along a dusty Adirondack road in Essex County; and Green Dragon, Canada Onion and Deerberry blooms in a floodplain along the Hoosic River in Rensselaer County.  I found many more plants, too, but these were the most photogenic!

A Warren County Sphagnum Bog

Wild Calla (Calla palustris) was blooming by the hundreds in this bog, with tiny flowers covering the chubby central green spadix. The snowy-white spathes and broad, green, heart-shaped leaves helped us locate them among all the other abundant greenery.

Bog Laurel (Kalmia polifolia) was almost past blooming in this bog, its fading flowers already yielding pretty red fruits. An immediately evident way to distinguish Bog Laurel from the similar-looking and habitat-sharing Sheep Laurel is that the flowers of Bog Laurel are borne in a terminal cluster, whereas the flowers of Sheep Laurel are surmounted by a terminal cluster of leaves. Also, Bog Laurel usually blooms a week or so earlier than Sheep Laurel. I'm glad I was able to witness at least one bloom on this quintessential bog shrub.

Labrador Tea (Rhododendron groenlandicum) is a common denizen of sphagnum bogs, where the scent of its aromatic leaves signal its presence even before we notice its clusters of abundant white flowers. The orange-colored fuzz on the stems and underside of its leathery in-rolled leaves make its ID unmistakable.

Three-leaved False Solomon's Seal (Maianthemum trifolium) can be found only in acidic bogs, which helps us distinguish its 6-petaled, snowy-white, fragrant flowers from those of the related Maianthemum canadense, which grows in drier woodlands. Although the thousands of plants we found here were already producing their fruits, enough of the flowers remained to look as if someone had tossed handfuls of tiny stars across the moss.

Virginia Chain Fern (Anchistea virginica), with unfurling fronds.  Although most ferns are notoriously difficult to identify at this stage, the fact that these fronds are strung out in a line and not emerging from a central cluster helped to suggest that identity immediately.  The distinctive veining of the individual pinnae as well as the acidic habitat offered additional evidence. (Also, a friend who knows about these, told us that we would find them here!)

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A Wilderness-Area Road in Essex County

Glaucous Honeysuckle (Lonicera dioica), a vining plant, is one of our few native honeysuckles. It is immediately recognizable by its showy terminal clusters of multi-colored flowers, which eventually produce equally showy clusters of red berries, centered within the terminal leaf-pair that is fused into one. I actually made the effort to visit this distant site so that I could lay my eyes on the beautiful Wild Purple Clematis that usually sprawls across the same marble boulders this honeysuckle vine does, and always this very week in June.  But a late frost must have nipped off all the clematis flower buds this year,  since not a single bloom or bud could I find among its trailing vine.  Ah well, there's always next year! And the beauty of abundant Glaucous Honeysuckle flowers offered a kind of compensation.

Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis).  The snowy-white flowers of our tiniest dogwood also offered some solace to me, blooming in pretty patches along the same road where I'd hoped (and failed) to find that native clematis. As the summer proceeds, the tiny central flowers surrounded now by large white sepals will eventually produce the shiny-red berry clusters that suggested this plant's vernacular name.

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Banks of the Hoosic River, Rensselaer County

Green Dragon (Arisaema dracontium) is related to our more familiar Jack-in-the-Pulpit and bears its odd flowers in a similar way,  except that the Green Dragon's yellowish spadix is so long and narrow it can't be contained within its hooding spathe and "reaches for the sky!"  And it is definitely not as widely common as J-Pulpits, at least in my experience, for this alluvial riverbank along the Hoosic River is the only place I have ever found them. And here they grow in abundant numbers as well as to prodigious size, attesting to the nutrient richness of the site.

Canada Onion (Allium canadense) is another plant that thrives in the rich, deep, alluvial soil along this stretch of the Hoosic River.  Its slender stalks and grass-fine leaves are well hidden within the riverside greenery until it produces its signature tissue-covered clusters of bulblets that surmount each stem. And it doesn't stop there! For this wild onion doesn't take chances when it comes to reproduction, producing both sexual flowers as well as those clonal bulblets. Its small pink flowers are remarkably pretty!

Deerberry (Vaccinium stamineum) grows along the same banks of the Hoosic River, but higher up on the river's wooded shale cliffs instead of down on the low alluvial plain.  This blueberry relative is easily distinguished from other members of its genus by the widely flaring, open flowers (white, but often speckled with tiny dark spots) from which protrude the long brownish stamens that undoubtedly  suggested the shrub's scientific specific epithet. (I also see an even longer protruding pistil, but probably the taxonomist [most likely a male] who first named this flower chose to focus on the male parts.  Typical!)  The shrubs were particularly laden with abundant flowers this year. Too bad the fruits, while colored a lovely turquoise-blue dotted with white, are not at all palatable for humans. I wonder if the deer like them, hence the vernacular name.