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Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Botanizing in Alaska: Claytoniella bostockii

I've previously posted about a couple of plants from a shattered-rock slope we encountered outside of Fairbanks (the-biologist-is-in.blogspot.com/2015/07/botanizing-in-alaska-dwarf-birch.html; the-biologist-is-in.blogspot.com/2015/07/botanizing-in-alaska-mountain-avens.html). Though I had taken a break from posts about the biology I encountered on my Alaska trip, there remain still several to go from this site alone.

This particular plant was Marie's favorite. I was eventually able to identify it as Claytoniella bostockii, a plant in the Purslane family (Portulacea). It is a native plant to the area, but doesn't seem to have any common names in English.

It appears to grow perennially, regenerating from roots every year. There were many small plants in addition to ones as large as seen in the second photo, which presumably took several years to grow. I'm certain there are biologically interesting things about this plant, but I didn't spend any real time examining the actual plants so I can't add to the paltry amount of information available online. Maybe on the next trip, I'll take better notes.


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Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Violet Surprise 2

Earlier in the season I found a violet with fringed leaves growing in an overgrown garden (the-biologist-is-in.blogspot.com/2015/05/violet-surprise.html). There are a few violet species which typically have similar fringed leaves (V. triloba, V. palmata, & V. pedata), but it is pretty clear that the plant I found doesn't represent any of these species. I identified the plant as being a novel mutant form of the Viola sororia (Common Blue Violet) that is growing all over the yard.

Earlier in the summer, we performed an accidental experiment involving lots of hosta plants. Most of them were green and a few were variegated. The deer immediately started eating the green hostas, with such vigor that they pulled some of the plants out of the ground. The variegated hostas remained untouched... for a while, at least. The result of this experiment is that the deer are hesitant to eat something that looks different from what they're used to.

I realized that violets are also considered delectable to deer when I planted some other violet plants into a garden bed and watched them repeatedly get nibbled to the ground. I find myself wondering if the survival of this fringed plant before I found it was due to its novel look. It could also be that the plant was just hiding better. Compared to the typical violet, the fringed leaves made this plant better camoflaged among the grasses and such which were growing around it.

Either way, I like the look of the plant and am hoping to propagate it further. V. sororia creeps along the ground, growing new branches while older sections of stem die with age. Over time a single plant will become many vegetative clones spread over a wider area. This is a slow method of propagating a violet, but fortunately the biology of violets provides a faster method.

Early in the growing season, a violet plant produces the stereotypical purple/violet flowers. In the heat of summer, flower production falls off. Once cooler weather arrives with fall, flowering starts up again. However, these flowers are different than the spring flowers. These flowers never open their petals and develop on very short stems, so remaining hidden at the base of the plant. Because they never reveal their reproductive parts, they're referred to as cleistogamous flowers. The flowers pollinate themselves and then develop more obvious seed pods. Once the seeds are mature, the seed pod rotates to point upwards and the seeds are forcefully ejected by the drying of the fruit sections.

A simple way to save the seeds is to wrap the pods in a simple loop of cellophane tape. The tape will remain attached to the pod as it ripens and rotates. When the fruit sections dry out, the seeds are forcefully ejected onto the sticky tape (as in the image at right) where they remain for collection.

If the parent plant is highly inbred, the seeds collected from a cleistogamous flower will represent near clones of the parent. Because of this feature, the seeds I'm collecting from the mutant V. sororia will likely grow to also have the interesting fringed leaves. (All Viola species share this pattern of flowering, including pansies.)


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Tuesday, October 13, 2015

The Gall of Those Goldenrods

S. canadensis flowers.
Goldenrods (genus Solidago) are blooming prolifically in southern Minnesota. This patch is near the building I work at, but I find them blooming in parks, along roads, and in my own yard. Though they are considered weedy and potentially invasive, I like the look of the flowers and they make an interesting subject for study due to the various animal species which interact with it.

One of the more studied interactions is between the Goldenrod and the Goldenrod Gall Fly (Eurosta solidaginis). This fly causes the Goldenrod to grow hard bulbous galls in the main stem that are referred to as "ball galls". The galls are easy to collect during winter, so ample material is available for teaching or research purposes.
S. canadensis flower galls.

Though I have found a few of the ball galls, the Goldenrod patch near my work didn't seem to have any. The patch was full of another type of gall, however. These galls are formed at the top of the stem and look like a tight cluster of leaves, forming a flower-like head structure. Because of the appearance, they are referred to as "bunch galls", "rosette galls", or "flower galls".

Goldenrod flower gall.
If you take one of these flower galls and dissect it carefully, it has an internal structure very similar in organization to the flower of a sunflower plant. There is a broad flat disk with leafy structures (florets or leaves), on top of a pithy core which widens as it approaches the base. Ok, I admit it is a bit of a stretch, but there is enough similarity to have the name "flower gall" make some sense.

When I first saw these galls, I had assumed they were caused by an infection with a fungus that was using the flower-like structure to trick insects into carrying its spores to other plants. (Check out the Cedar Apple Rust gall for an example of a fungal "flower" used for spore dispersal.)

R. solidaginis larva.
When I cut open the Goldenrod flower gall, I found several small insect larvae. They had no identifying markers, aside from their characteristic flower gall. After doing a bit of research, I found these were larva of the Goldenrod Gall Midge (Rhopalomyia solidaginis). These small flies are parasites of a specific Goldenrod species, Solidago canadensis.

I've had limited success finding information about the life-cycle of the Goldenrod Gall Midge. The few references I've found which talk about the insects' life cycle refers to two life-cycles per year. The larva I found represent the summer juveniles, which will pupate into fall adults. These fall adults will lay eggs in the ground (or the base of the Goldenrod plants?), which then quickly hatch and overwinter as larvae. These larvae would then grow quickly and pupate in spring to make the later generation of adults to infect the Goldenrods and produce the flower galls. I've known that the life-cycles of parasites often include multiple hosts or stages of growth, but I didn't realize this one was going through its complicated life right under my nose in the wild-flower patch.


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Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Wild Capsicum annuum

www.victoriananursery.co.uk/Chiltepin_Seed/
The little wild chiles of the arid-Southwest (Capsicum annuum var. glabriusculum) have long held my interest. They are spread by the birds and crop up under shrubs or along fence-lines, where they seem to enjoy the shade. The tiny pods are scorchingly hot and the plants produce them prolifically without any apparent disease problems.

The first time I became aware of this plant I was in middle school. There was a crew working on the power lines behind my house and one of the workers was collecting the tiny red berries that we had assumed were poisonous. When my father asked him what they were, the worker apologized and asked if he could have them. Pretty soon, the worker realized we didn't know what they were. I don't remember how he explained, but it culminated with my dad trying one and then agreeing to let the worker have all that he had picked. Ever since then, the members of my family that like hot foods kept an eye out for the little wild peppers.

When I left Texas, I brought one of these chiles in a pot. Once in Minnesota, the plant quickly died. I had left it in a shaded location, like they prefer in Texas, but it was soon apparent that it also didn't like the cool and dark shadows found in Minnesota. I probably should have given it full sun, as full sun in Minnesota is much like partial shade in Texas.

Sometime before the plant died, I noticed that its leaves when crushed had a distinct smell I associated with the pungency of hot chiles. When I had my dad smell the crushed leaves, he jerked back in an attempt to avoid the pain you get when crushed chiles end up inside your face. He was very surprised at the scent and I was amused. I tasted some leaves to see if they had a hot taste, but they only tasted like greenery.



A few years later, I was visiting Austin-TX and looked for some of the wild chiles to gather seeds from. I succeeded in finding a single plant under shrub, but was surprised that the leaves had no scent at all. It was approaching mid-winter, so the lack of scent could have been due to the growing conditions or a difference in genetics.

I really liked the scented leaves, so if the seedlings I grow over the next year or so aren't scented I'll have to keep looking for plants that are on future trips to Texas.


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Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Road-Trip Biology

After successfully defending my PhD thesis in early December of last year, I took some time off and drove down to Austin, Texas to spend the winter break with my parents. I stopped for gas and food a few times along the way to a hotel in Wichita, Kansas for my first night.



The second day, I took a more relaxed approach to my travel and stopped a few times to walk at roadside rest-stops. I planned to stop in Oklahoma to get some photos and a sample of the state soil, the Port Silt Loam. I found the soil at a small roadside stop about 50 miles north of Oklahoma City.

Whenever I've passed through the region, I noted that some of the dried grasses seemed to carry the color from the soil, while others did not. On other trips through the region, I noticed that in other areas where a grey soil is found, the same sort of grasses seemed to pick up the color of that soil too. I was hoping to get a sample of the grey soil as well, for comparison, but I didn't happen to encounter any.



At the same stop where I found the clay, I also found a nice juniper tree. As I was looking for a photogenic cluster of cones to photograph, I found what looked like the broken end of a branch hanging down.
On closer examination, I realized it was instead the pupal case of some insect. Once I saw one, I realized the tree was covered in them. I took one home with me to dissect. Inside I found the expected pupa.

After a little searching, I found the insect is called the "Evergreen Bagworm" (Thyridopteryx ephemeraeformis). They're considered a destructive parasite of the Juniper, with infestations eventually killing the trees.



Once I was in Austin, Texas, I spent most of my time with family. I did spend some time walking around the neighborhood, where I found a nice Mistletoe plant with fruit. Phoradendron coryae is the local Mistletoe species which grows on oak trees like the live oak (Quercus virginiana) I found this one growing on.

Individuals of this group are either male or female and live for many years. I've pondered on the idea of how one might grow mistletoe in an artificial media, but I've never heard of anyone actually working on such a project.



One of the common plants of south-central Texas is the Ball Moss (Tillandsia recurvata). Though called a moss, it is really a flowering plant related to Spanish Moss (Tillandsia usneoides) and Pineapple (Ananas comosus). It commonly grows on the interior branches of Texas Live Oak (Quercus virginiana), though I have in the past found it growing on old wooden fence posts and other man-made structures.

During my freshman year at the University of Texas, I noted one growing on the side of a building outside a tenth-story window. I wonder if it is still there.



I hadn't visited the Gateway Arch in many years, so I decided to route my trip home through Saint Louis, Missouri to have a walk around.

I didn't find much of biological interest while wandering the city, but I did get a nice photo of this birthday-cake statue on the grounds of the Arch celebrating the 250th year of Saint Louis.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Novel Vegetable: Scarlet Eggplant

S. integrifolium "Pumpkin Tree".
Solanum integrifolium (or S. aethiopictum, the nomenclature is a bit confused) goes by a few common names depending on what variety you're working with. A type that is grown primarily for decorative use in the USA is referred to as the "Pumpkin Tree" (or "Pumpkin-On-a-Stick") because of the ripe fruit have the color and shape (if not size) of pumpkins. The orange-red color of the fruit is characteristic for the species. Many other red/orange eggplants you will find are varieties of the same species.

Most photos of "Pumpkin Tree" plants that you find online have lovely deep purple-black stems, which provide nice contrast to its bright orange-red fruit when dried and used in a floral display. My plant has the green stems typical of your everyday eggplant, marking it as somewhat distinct from most of the photos I come across. My seeds were saved from a dried fruit that I found in a bouquet a friend had brought over from her florist employer. I didn't note the color of the stems, but I'm assuming they were light in color.

Sautéed "Pumpkin Tree".
The fruit are widely reported as edible, though they're more bitter than the usual cohort of American vegetables. There are references to the vegetable tasting better before it has turned orange, so I decided to prepare a pair of simple dishes to compare them. The ripe and unripe fruit from the top photo were diced and then sautéed separately with olive oil and a dash of salt and ground long-pepper. The ripe fruit was squishier and made more of a mess on my cutting board than the unripe fruit. As the diced eggplant was cooking, I was surprised to find many of the seeds were popping like popcorn, leaping out of the skillet in the process. (They didn't gain much in size like popcorn, however.)

After each dish was done, I sampled a small bite. Between trying one and the other, I rinsed out my mouth with some milk. The mature fruit might have been slightly more bitter than the immature fruit, but both were far more restrained than either had been when tasted raw. The bigger issue for me was the grainy texture of all the popped seeds. I may try preparing a batch of them into a stir-fry or some other dish that would prevent the popped seeds from being so prominent in the final meal.

The fruit are a bit too small for easy preparation. A larger-fruited variety, like several sold at www.rareseeds.com, would be a better place to start if you're interested in this plant as a vegetable. [I have no association with www.rareseeds.com, but I do think they're a cool company.]



I have seeds for another variety of scarlet eggplant that I found at a Hmong farmer's market stand near the University of Minnesota. The fruit were small, round berries that were connected in chains (like how cherry tomatoes often are). I chatted up the salesperson about the fruit, as I had never seen them before and was curious about them. He said the elders' name for the plant was [Hmong]"Iab Lws" (I had to have him spell it out, as I don't speak the language.) and that it is culturally considered the ideal pairing with squirrel. The name translates roughly to "Bitter Berry", which is a perfectly descriptive name because the berry is rather bitter. I wasn't planning to buy any, but in appreciation for my interest in his crop and culture, he insisted I take a large bundle as a gift. I don't typically enjoy bitter vegetables, but I've started to appreciate their place in cuisine.

It isn't yet clear to me if "Iab Lws" is another example of S. integrifolium (or S. aethiopictum) or if it represents the ancestral species S. anguivi. I planted several seeds early in the spring, but the plants that came up got lost along the way. I do have a single plant of "Iab Lws" that was started roughly mid-way through the summer. Though small, it has been growing well and is now flowering. Hopefully it will develop fruit before the first fall frost. Even if it doesn't fruit, I should be able to at least get some nice photos of the plant.



Since "Iab Lws" and "Pumpkin Tree" are very closely related, they should cross very easily. Though many gardeners take great pains to ensure their different varieties don't cross, so they can preserve the varieties as historical artifacts, I tend to be a bit more flexible. It doesn't bother me if my varieties cross. In fact, my varieties crossing helps to ensure that what I grow every year will remain interesting. My "Iab Lws" has started flowering and I've moved it to be directly adjacent to my "Pumpkin Tree" plant in hopes of that a cross might happen. I could perform the cross manually, but right now it is more convenient for me to simply setup situations where insects will do the work of crossing for me.

"Iab Lws" and "Pumpkin Tree" are distinct enough (as mature plants) and there is no reason to expect that all alleles responsible for visible traits in one variety would be dominant over the alleles from the other variety. It should be relatively simple to identify any resulting hybrids early enough to isolate them and ensure self-pollination (of at least the later fruit). I'm really interested in what recombinations of the traits from the two varieties would turn up in the F2 population and in subsequent generations. Large fruit developing in elongated chains would be really cool (as well as useful).



S. integrifolium "Korean Red".
I recently came across a fruit for yet another S. integrifolium variety, "Korean Red". This variety has been bred primarily as a vegetable and the fruit are much less bitter as a result. The fruit is definitely denser than those of "Pumpkin Tree", suggesting to me that it would be much more useful as a kitchen ingredient. I'm holding off from cutting into this one because I want to let it mature its seeds for me to grow next year.

When the fruit had become very shrunken, I cut it open and extracted the seeds for final drying. The fruit residue smelled very sweet, without any of the bitterness I was expecting. I didn't actually taste the residue, so I'll have to wait for next year to tell if the scent was telling the truth about the fruit.

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Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Botanizing in Alaska: Fireweed

Fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium) is a stereotypically Alaskan wildflower, though it does grow widely in the northern regions of North America, Europe, and Asia. It grows luxuriantly in newly-opened areas the year after a wildflower, hence its name.

The plant usually flowers in dark pink. I found the light pink form at an incidence of roughly 1:100,000 plants during my Fairbanks trip. (Very rough estimation from observed density in an open field where this photo was taken.) I saw one small patch of just the lighter shade, but it was along the highway where I was not able to stop and take photos.

I had hoped to gather seeds for my garden, but none were to be found during my trip. The seeds mature well after all the flowers have withered away, so I would have to plan a trip later in the season if I want to find any. Since the light-colored form of the plant would look no different from all the others, I'd have only the slightest chance of getting seeds for this novel form.



My research indicates Fireweed can also be found in my home state of Minnesota. I'd never noticed it before, but since I've seen it up close recently...  I've now noticed a few isolated patches of what looks like a smaller version of the Fireweed I saw in Fairbanks. Unfortunately, the patches were along highway margins, so I didn't have the opportunity to examine the plants in detail.


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