tomatoes are carnivorous plants?

Tomato carnivore

One of the car­niv­o­rous plant lists I’m on has been buzzing a bit lately about an arti­cle that appeared in the Botan­i­cal Jour­nal of the Lin­nean Soci­ety, “Mur­der­ous plants: Vic­to­rian Gothic, Dar­win and mod­ern insights into veg­etable car­nivory.” (See the abstract: here.) What really got things going was a sen­sa­tion­al­ized story in the Lon­don Tele­graph, with the catchy title: “Toma­toes can ‘eat’ insects!” (The excla­ma­tion point is mine, but it seemed right for many titles pub­lished by the Tele­graph.)

The basic premise is that hairs on tomato plants can catch and kill some small insects. The dead insects fall to the ground and nour­ish the plant. The botan­i­cal tech­nique is called “pas­sive car­nivory,” in oppo­si­tion to the active car­nivory prac­ticed by plants like sar­race­nia that have means to both cap­ture and digest prey.

It’s kin­duv a stretch, pulling a num­ber of plants into what before was a select club of car­ni­vores. The Tele­graph arti­cle men­tions “petu­nia, orna­men­tal tobacco plants, some vari­eties of pota­toes and toma­toes, and shepherd’s purse, a rel­a­tive of cab­bages.” The Lin­nean Soci­ety abstract goes on to men­tion plants “such as Sty­lid­ium (Sty­lidi­aceae), some species of Poten­tilla (Rosaceae), Pro­boscidea (Mar­ty­ni­aceae) and Gera­nium (Gera­ni­aceae), that have been demon­strated to both pro­duce diges­tive enzymes on their epi­der­mal sur­faces and be capa­ble of absorb­ing the products.”

That got the car­niv­o­rous plant folks to stretch the def­i­n­i­tion fur­ther. What about New Zealand’s bird-eating para ara tree? Maybe even the Cal­i­for­nia fan palm with its haz­ardous saw­tooth peti­oles? While I’m at it I might as well add one of my own nom­i­na­tions: euca­lyp­tus, the Aus­tralian widow-maker. After our wind­storm Mon­day night I noticed all sorts of euca­lyp­tus branches on the ground. If you were around when some of the eight-inch-thick branches fell off, you’d be on your way to being nour­ish­ing com­post for the plants!

December 12 2009 | Categories: gardening | Tags: | 11 Comments »

nepotism and plants

I enjoy odd botan­i­cal sci­ence sto­ries, and this was one of the stranger ones I’ve read in a while: Plants will look after clones of them­selves but won’t lift a petal to assist an unre­lated plant of the same species. That’s the con­tro­ver­sial result of a study pub­lished in Ecol­ogy Let­ters and pub­li­cized in yesterday’s BBC Mag­a­zine.

Richard Kar­ban of the Uni­ver­sity of Cal­i­for­nia, Davis and Kaori Shio­jiri of Kyoto Uni­ver­sity in Otsu, Japan stud­ied the Great Basin sage­brush, Artemisia tri­den­tata. They found that there’s a chance that a plant will alert another iden­ti­cal clone of a species when dan­ger is near. But when two unre­lated Great Basin sage­brushes are placed next to each other, the strangers won’t do any­thing to help each other out. (How the plants com­mu­ni­cate wasn’t part of the study. Details…)

Artemisia tridentata drawing(Left: Artemisia tri­den­tata. Brit­ton, N.L., and A. Brown. 1913. An illus­trated flora of the north­ern United States, Canada and the British Pos­ses­sions. Vol. 3: 530.)

These find­ings sound a lot like another study I’d men­tioned just a lit­tle a year ago, where seedlings from the same par­ents will coex­ist hap­pily in a pot, while seedlings of the same species that come from dif­fer­ent par­ents will try to out-compete each other. Sim­i­lar processes might be going on in both of these studies.

All this is inter­est­ing when you think about hor­ti­cul­tural plants ver­sus wild pop­u­la­tions. Many plants in hor­ti­cul­ture and some in agri­cul­ture are grown from cut­tings, or are grafted or bud­ded or lay­ered. Each result­ing plant is a clone of another and will have iden­ti­cal, pre­dictable char­ac­ter­is­tics. If you buy a Fuji apple tree, you’d like to be assured that you get a Fuji apple, not a ran­dom seedling.

Accord­ing to find­ings in the new study, iden­ti­cal hor­ti­cul­tural plants might actu­ally have some tem­po­rary advan­tages. For instance one plant might help its neigh­bor brace for imme­di­ate haz­ards in their envi­ron­ment, maybe some­thing like an insect attack. (Some­one should try out how a pot full of cut­tings behave com­pared to the same species grown from seed from unre­lated parents.)

While gar­den­ers might enjoy pre­dictabil­ity, biol­o­gists would still say that this is a bad thing from a long term evo­lu­tion­ary stand­point. An ail­ment that could wipe out one plant could wipe out all the plants with iden­ti­cal genetic makeup. Nepo­tism among clones of the same plant might be use­ful for the plant’s imme­di­ate cir­cle, but is likely to be a dan­ger­ous thing for the future of the species.

June 02 2009 | Categories: gardeninglandscape | Tags: | 4 Comments »

grab a compass…or a cow

Cow compassesMaybe you saw the news story last August: Using images from Google Earth, Dr. Sabine Begall and her col­leagues found that cows gen­er­ally align them­selves north-to-south, using the earth’s mag­netic field as a guide. [ image source ]

And you may have heard the fol­lowup story this week: Cows graz­ing around power lines faced in ran­dom direc­tions because the elec­tro­mag­netic fields gen­er­ated by the power lines dis­rupted the cows’ inter­nal sensors.

I was curi­ous. If cows can have their inter­nal sys­tems messed with by power lines, what about plants? I did a quick web trawl and found all sorts of evi­dence that elec­tro­mag­netic fields could in fact effect plant growth, though bio­elec­tro­mag­net­ics is a field that hasn’t seen a huge amount of research.

One study “showed sig­nif­i­cantly greater wet root weight and sig­nif­i­cantly smaller stem diam­e­ter and dry seed weight at the end of the exper­i­ment in exposed plants com­pared to con­trol plants.”

And I ran across an email response by Shireef Dar­wish, a grad stu­dent at the Depart­ment of Plant Sci­ence at McGill Uni­ver­sity, to the ques­tion “do mag­netic fields have an effect on plant growth?” The expla­na­tion is worth read­ing, and includes an exten­sive bib­li­og­ra­phy that points to fur­ther effects of elec­tro­mag­net­ism on plants.

powerline-road_0001Out­of­doors recently did a great post that reminded us that it would make so much more sense to gen­er­ate power with solar cells at the point of use in the city than to deploy solar arrays in the desert, destroy­ing big swaths of frag­ile desert.

In addi­tion to eat­ing up the desert, I’d add that remote gen­er­a­tion would require the power com­pa­nies to deliver the power to dis­tant cities, most likely over high ten­sion lines. All of you can prob­a­bly speak from per­sonal expe­ri­ence that the power line roads that the elec­tric com­pa­nies gouge through the land­scape beneath the lines do plenty to dis­fig­ure the land­scape and to pro­vide fer­tile open space that might encour­age inva­sive species. Not a pretty sight. And then there’s the issue of the elec­tro­mag­netic fields.

It’s been known for a while that a flu­o­res­cent tube placed under­neath high-tension lines would glow just from the fields. (The effect is observ­able under­neath the lines that carry the hugest amount of cur­rent, not nec­es­sar­ily the lower-capacity trans­mis­sion lines.) There are at least two art projects that take advan­tage of this phe­nom­e­non, both to power the bulbs and to get us think­ing about what it might mean for us to have these power lines in our midst.

Fluorescent tubes below power linesLarry and Debby Kline. Encryp­tion (The Elec­tric Fields of Cal­i­for­nia, Site # 4) Sears Point Farm­ing Com­pany
Tubbs Island, Sonoma, CA
[ source ]

I met Larry and Debby Kline here in San Diego dur­ing 2003 when they had an open­ing of their art­work at a gallery across the street from a gallery where I was show­ing my own work. They were part of the way through this project where they made sculp­tures of flu­o­res­cent tubes beneath some of the high-capacity power lines that run through Cal­i­for­nia. One project used 30 bulbs, another 60. (A tip from the Klines: The bulbs light up best when they’re stand­ing on end.) After assem­bling the sculp­tures, they made strik­ing pho­tographs of them.

And then, in 2004, British artist Richard Box used 1301 bulbs in this installation.

Richard Box installation of fluorescent tubes beneath power lines [ source ]

I don’t want to get all hys­ter­i­cal over the poten­tial effects of these elec­tro­mag­netic fields, but they obvi­ously have some effects on ani­mals and plants. While the power lines may be no more dan­ger­ous to your health than your cell phone or microwave oven, I can’t help but think that this is yet another poorly-designed and unnec­es­sary sci­ence exper­i­ment that we humans have dropped into the land­scape. There’s no doubt, though, that at least the power line roads have their impacts.

March 20 2009 | Categories: artlandscape | Tags: | 6 Comments »

anagrams for darwin day

The bicen­ten­nial of the birth of Charles Dar­win (on Feb­ru­ary 12, 1809) is approach­ing. How many other peo­ple have con­tributed more to our under­stand­ing of nat­ural his­tory? I say, it’s some­thing to celebrate!

Here are some botanical-themed ana­grams using the let­ters of his name. They were gen­er­ated using the Inter­net Ana­gram Server, a totally mag­nif­i­cent way to waste spend your wak­ing hours. (With 7974 ana­grams to choose from I’ve prob­a­bly missed a few other choice ones.)

The first one is so con­cise and poetic it makes haiku look verbose.

Larch rains dew

Larch aids wren

Earl wins chard

Lawn ires chard

Car: “I shred lawn”

…and last but not least:

Red lawn chairs

[ Image to the right from the Cedar Chair Store web­site ]


February 05 2009 | Categories: gardeningrambles | Tags: | 5 Comments »