Birds and Nature, Vol. VIII, No. 2, September 1900

"You're almost hidden down there in the snow,
And I see you shiver whene'er the winds blow.
If I were you I wouldn't bloom
If I couldn't grow with the roses in June.
What right have they any more than you,
To live in the summer when skies are blue
And bright with sunshine the whole long day?
They have it easy enough, I must say;
But you're so meekly quiet and white,
You're afraid to speak up when you have the right."

"But, my dear," said the snowdrop, "can't you see
That summer can do very well without me?
My place is to blossom right here in the snow,
No matter where the roses grow.
It's lovely to be a summer flower,
But I am content to do all in my power
To sweeten the gloom of this wintry day,
And be brave if the sky is so cold and gray.
I cannot be helpful by being sad;
I have my work and that makes me glad
To bloom my fairest and grow my best,
And let kind nature do all the rest."

    Wildea Wood.

THE GLADNESS OF NATURE

Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
When our mother Nature laughs around,
When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;
The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,
And the wilding-bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space,
And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,
And here they stretch to frolic chase,
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower;
There's a titter of winds in that beechen tree;
There's a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray;
On the leaping waters and gay young isles —
Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away!

    William Cullen Bryant.

FLOWERS AND THEIR INVITED GUESTS

It must be taken for granted in this paper that the reader has such knowledge of the parts of the flower as could be obtained from the paper on "A Typical Flower," printed in the June number.

When flowers first appeared it became necessary to secure the transfer of the pollen grains to the stigmas. This was necessary in order that the ovule might be developed into a seed containing a young plant or embryo. At first the currents of air were selected as the agents of this pollen transfer, and the flowers were adapted to what is known as wind-pollination. As the wind is an inanimate agent any transfer by it is largely a matter of chance. In order to increase the chances of successful pollination it was necessary for pollen to be developed in enormous quantities, so that it might fall like rain. In this way stigmas would be reached, but at the same time an enormous amount of pollen would be wasted. The evergreens are good illustrations of wind-pollinated plants, and their showers of pollen are very familiar to those who live near pine forests. When these showers come down in unaccustomed regions they are often spoken of as "showers of sulphur," and the local newspapers are full of accounts of the mysterious substance.

In wind-pollinated plants not only must the pollen be excessively abundant, but it must also be very light and dry. Sometimes the buoyancy is increased by the development of wings on the pollen grains, as in the case of pines. This habit of pollination is found not only among the evergreens, but also among many important families of the higher plants, as in the ordinary forest trees, the grasses, etc.

When the higher forms appeared, however, flowers of a different character gave evidence that a new type of pollination was being devised. Instead of the old wasteful method, insects were called in to act as agents of the transfer. By securing an animate agent there is a definiteness in the pollination and a saving in pollen production which is quite in contrast with the wind method. It must not be supposed that all flowers have learned to use insects with equal skill, for many of them may be said to be clumsy in their arrangements. On the other hand, certain families have reached a high degree of organization in this regard, and arrange for insect visits with a skill and completeness of organization which is astonishing.

In order to secure visits from insects, so that pollination may be effected, flowers have been compelled to do several things. In the first place, they must provide an attractive food. This has taken two prominent forms, namely, nectar and pollen. There are insects, such as butterflies, which are not only attracted by the nectar, but whose mouth parts have only been adapted for sucking up a liquid. There are other insects, however, like the bees, wasps, etc., which are able to take the more substantial pollen as food. Accordingly insects which visit flowers may be roughly divided into the two classes, nectar-feeders and pollen-feeders.

In the second place, the flower must notify the insect in some way that the food is present. This is done primarily by the odors which flowers give off. It must not be supposed that odors which are sensible to us are the only ones sensible to insects, for in general their sense of smell is far keener than ours. It is also probably true that the display of color, which is so conspicuously associated with flowers, is an attraction to insects, although this has become somewhat doubtful lately by the discovery that certain insects which were thought to be attracted by color have proved to be color blind. At present, however, we have no reason to suppose that color is not associated in some prominent way with the visits of insects.

It should be noticed, also, that two kinds of pollination are possible. The pollen may be transferred to the stigma of its own flower, or it may be carried to the stigma in some other flower, and this other flower may be some distance away. The former method may be called self-pollination, the latter cross-pollination. It seems evident that flowers in general have made every effort to secure cross-pollination. This would seem to imply that it is a better method for some reason, although we may not be able to explain why. Apparently, however, while flowers in general have tried to secure cross-pollination, they have not entirely abandoned the chances of self-pollination, so that if one should fail the other may be used. In this way it will be found that a great many plants have two kinds of flowers, the ordinary showy kind, and in addition to them inconspicuous flowers which are never seen except by those acquainted with their presence. For example, in the common violet, in addition to those flowers with which everyone is familiar, others are developed which are concealed by the cluster of leaves, which never open, but which are able to produce very well developed seeds.

With nectar and pollen provided as food, and with odor and color notifying the insects of their presence, it remains to be noted that the suitable insects are those which fly. A creeping insect is of no avail in the work of pollination, since the pollen will be rubbed from its body as it crawls from one flower to the next. How the flowers ward off the visits of creeping insects, which are attracted as well as the flying ones to the food provided, will be described in a subsequent paper.

A good illustration of the workings of insect pollination may be found in the sweet pea, or in any member of the pea family. The flower has a rough resemblance to a butterfly, whose projecting body is represented by a structure like the keel of a boat. In this keel is a cluster of stamens, and also the pistil with its stigma at the top. While lying in this keel the stamens shed their pollen upon the style, which usually has hairs or some sticky surface to receive it. Accordingly the style bears the stigma on top and masses of pollen stuck to its sides below. An insect being attracted to such a flower naturally lands upon the keel as upon a shelf, with its head toward the center of the flower, where the nectar is deposited. If the insect is heavy enough the weight of its body pushes down the keel, but the contained style is anchored, so that it seems to dart out, and strikes the insect's body, first with the stigma at the tip, and then glancing along rubs its side against the body of the insect. The insect flies away with pollen rubbed upon its body, and when it goes through the same performance at another flower, the new stigma strikes it first and gets some of the pollen, and then some more pollen is smeared on, and so the pollen is carried from one flower to the stigma of another flower. It is easy to see the effect of the weight of a heavy insect by pressing down the keel with a pencil, when the style will be seen to dart forth at the tip.

Perhaps one of the most common ways of securing pollination is that in which the pollen and stigma are not ready at the same time in the same flower. The pollen may be ready to shed, but the stigma is not ready to receive, or the reverse may be true. This would seem very effective in preventing self-pollination. Illustrations of this kind are exceedingly numerous, but perhaps as common a one as any is furnished by the great fireweed, Epilobium. It has a conspicuous purple flower, and if a patch of the plants be examined the flowers will be found in two conditions. In one set the cluster of stamens will be found projecting straight out from the flower, while the style with its stigma is turned back out of the way under the flower. In the other set the stamens, having shed their pollen, are turned back behind the flower, while the style has straightened up, and the mature stigma holds the same position that the anthers did the day before. An insect, in visiting such a group, therefore, may fly straight towards a flower whose stamens are projecting and shedding, and its body will be dusted with the pollen. If it now flies to a flower which is a little older, whose stamens are out of the way, but whose style is projecting, its body carrying the pollen will strike the stigma. In this way the pollen is very effectively transferred from one flower to another.

It would be impossible to give any adequate account of the subject of insect-pollination in general, as it is an immense subject with an ever-increasing literature. Every kind of flower has its own particular way of solving the problem, so that the subject will never be completed until all flowers have been questioned and their answers obtained.

Any account, however brief, should not omit mention of the orchids, which in the matter of insect-pollination have reached the highest degree of organization. So detailed are their adaptations that each kind of flower is adapted to a particular kind of insect. The accounts given of the various ways in which orchids attract insects and secure pollination really surpass belief, until one has actually observed some of the plants and their insects at work. Any greenhouse furnishes abundant examples of orchids, and our illustration represents one of the most common of our native orchids, the ordinary yellow Lady-slipper. In most orchid flowers there is a long tubular spur, at the bottom of which the nectar is found, which is to be reached by long probosces, such as can be found only in moths and butterflies. In Lady-slippers, however, there is a different arrangement. The flowers have a conspicuous pouch in which the nectar is secreted, and a flap overhangs the opening of the pouch. Behind the flap are the two pollen masses, between which is the stigmatic surface. A bee crowds itself away into the pouch and becomes imprisoned, and may frequently be found buzzing about uneasily. The nectar is in the bottom of the pouch, and after feeding the bee moves toward the opening overhung by the flap, and rubs itself against the stigma and then against the anthers, receiving the pollen on its back. A visit to another flower will result in rubbing some of the pollen upon the stigma, and in receiving more pollen for another flower.

One of the most remarkable cases of insect-pollination is that shown by the ordinary Yucca, which is pollinated by a small moth, the plant and the moth being very dependent upon one another. The flowers of Yucca occur in very large prominent clusters, and hang like bells. In each bell-shaped flower there are six hanging stamens, and a central ovary ribbed lengthwise like a melon. At the tip of the ovary is a funnel-shaped opening, which is the stigma. During the day the moth hides quietly in the recesses of the flower, but at dusk she becomes very active. She travels down the stamens, and, resting on the open anthers, scrapes out the somewhat sticky pollen with her front legs. Holding the little mass of pollen she runs up on the ovary, stands astride of one of the furrows, pierces through the wall with her ovipositor, and deposits an egg in an ovule. After depositing several eggs, she runs to the apex of the ovary and begins to crowd the mass of pollen she has collected into the funnel-like stigma. These actions are repeated several times, until many eggs are deposited and repeated pollination has been effected. As a result of all this, the flower is pollinated and seeds are formed, which develop abundant nourishment for the moth larvae, whose eggs had been laid in the ovule. Just how the insect learned that this behavior on her part would secure food for her young is hard to imagine.

In studying any flower there are three questions that should be asked: (1) How does it hinder self-pollination?; (2) How does it secure cross-pollination?; (3) How does it discourage the visits of unsuitable insects?

    John Merle Coulter.

THE ASTERS

The mythical origin of the Asters is set forth in an old Greek story, which states that after the gods had abandoned the earth, because of the crimes and dissensions that came with the Brazen Age, Astraea, the goddess of innocence and purity, alone remained, endeavoring to redeem the degenerate race of mortals. She, too, finally left, and became known among the stars as the constellation Virgo, or the Virgin. After the wrath of Jupiter had been appeased by the destruction of the earth by water, Virgo, noticing that the summit of Mount Parnassus had alone escaped the flood, planted there a seed, whose flowers should reflect the azure hue of her new home and whose heart should typify the Golden Age that some day will come again to mankind. This plant, Virgo destined as a symbol of her mission of purity and so she gave it her early name, Astraea or Aster. That the plants might bloom for all races of men, Zephyrus, the lover of Flora, queen of the flowers, took the seeds and distributed them throughout the earth from polar snows to the sun-kissed lands of the equator. Hence it is that the Aster, in some of its varied forms, is found in all countries, over two hundred and fifty species being known to botanists. Although the plant is cosmopolitan, it is essentially an American form, one hundred and fifty of the total known species belonging to North America. Of the balance, Russia claims twenty, Europe ten and Canada sixty or seventy.

It seems as though Nature, after the first blush of spring, relaxed her efforts for a supreme endeavor towards the close of the floral season. Then she assumes her festal robes and the woodlands and fields become gorgeous with the purple of the Asters, the gold of the sunflowers and golden-rod, with here and there the cardinal and blue of the lobelias.

Among all this symphony of color, no plant is more lavish of its charms than the New England Aster (Aster Novae Anglae). Botanically considered, the Asters belong to the Compositae, a family of plants including from ten to twelve thousand species and characterized by large numbers of flowers, crowded together into single heads, each of which gives the impression of a single flower. What appear to be petals, are known as ray flowers and give the characteristic color, as the purple, blue or white of the Aster or the yellow of the Sunflower. These rays consist of flowers, whose petals have been joined together and spread out flat, the points of the petals usually appearing on the end of the ray. In the case of the Asters, the ray flowers, which occur in a single row, are pistillate or have a pistil and no stamens and hence are capable of producing seeds. The center or disk flowers are tubular, yellow in color and perfect, containing both stamens and pistils. The heads are surrounded by an involucre, having leaf-like tips and are variously massed or branched along the stems of the plant.

With few exceptions, the Asters are perennial, coming up each year from the old underground portions and flowering in autumn. They vary in height from a few inches to eight feet or more, but in the case of the New England Aster, the completed growth is generally from two to seven or eight feet. This species has a stout and somewhat hairy stem clothed with many leaves which are pointed, have entire edges and a clasping base. The ray flowers in the common form are purple, but in the two varieties of the species, they are rose-purple or white.

The plant derives its name from the fact that its general distribution in the Eastern States together with the beauty of its flowers gained it an early recognition among the pioneers of New England, where it soon became a favorite. The statement is made that it was the chosen flower of John Alden and Priscilla and, on many occasions, old books, handed down from revolutionary days, have been found to contain dried specimens of the flowers.

The Late Purple Aster (Aster patens) while not an uncommon form, is one of the most beautiful of all the Asters. The rays are long and showy, in color purplish-blue or deep violet. The plants attain a height of from one to three feet, the stems having rigid, bristly hairs and the leaves, which are entire, have a clasping base.