The Secret Sex Life of Ladyslippers

Yellow Ladyslipper in Virginia Forest

Yesterday my friend Linda and I went out to hike at the Thompson Wildlife Management Area in Virginia. This is one of the richest places in our area for spring wildflowers, and one particular portion, with its spectacular display of Trillium grandiflora that extends for acres, is known as the Trillium Trail (previous postings about it here and  here ).

We hadn't visited the Trillium Trail for a couple of years, and with this year's unusually warm spring putting our season two weeks ahead of a normal year, I was fairly sure the trillium display would be over by now.

We found some fading trillium flowers in small patches here and there (the white flowers turn pink as they age), but the main reason I wanted to make the trek was to find some yellow ladyslipper orchids for my botanical studies. The yellow ladyslipper seems to be prospering at this site, and my impression is that each year I've visited there are more flowers to be found.

I'd brought my sketchbook and pocket magnifier to make some field sketches of the flower's reproductive parts, but what exactly these were in this species, and in orchids in general, I wasn't really sure. I hoped direct observation would help clear up the mystery.

All flowers need pollinators to set seed, and orchids have evolved some of the most unusual strategies to accomplish this. Some orchids mimic bees or moths to attract specific pollinators, but in the case of the ladyslipper, the pouch forms a trap for the insect. The flowers produce nectar to attract the insect, presumably some kind of bee small enough to fit through the opening. In order to get out, the insect must crawl up towards that small protuberance you see in the photo, called the staminoide. Under the staminoide you can barely see two tiny pollen sacs, the anthers, which will drop their pollen on the insect to transfer it onto the stigma.

 I was lucky to find some decaying flowers where these parts were clearly visible. I was also fascinated to learn from my on-line research that the seeds have a very tough outer covering and need the help of mycorrhizal fungi to germinate and get nourishment during the early part of their life cycle. No wonder they are flourishing here--there is plenty of fungi all over this forest.

The young corm may not develop a true leaf for several years, but as it develops into a rhizome and produces more leaves, eventually it will no longer depend on the fungi. A plant may take up to sixteen years to produce its first flower, but they are long-lived plants.

I'll want to come back in mid-summer to see what the seed pods look like, and how many of the flowers have set seed. The secret sex life of these lovely orchids is fascinating!

Sky Meadows

Last weekend Linda and I visited a friend in Virginia, on the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Jane lives very close to the Thompson Wildlife Management area, where trilliums and other wild flowers are so spectacular in early May. Consulting my books, I'd learned that another state park, Sky Meadows, adjoins the Thompson tract, and though the drivable roads don't go through, one can walk from one to the other via the Appalachian Trail.

It was pouring on Friday as I drove west on I-66 through a slow rush-hour slog, but with increasing distance from the Beltway the traffic cleared, it stopped raining and the clouds began to lift. By the time I reached Sky Meadows, the clouds were opening and the sun was flitting through in patches. Linda and I took a short walk on a loop trail that led up to this grassy meadow. The pastoral beauty of this part of Virginia seems like a movie set, I feel blessed to be able to enjoy it in its spring-time splendor.

It rained heavily during the night, and was still raining next morning, but the weather predictions assured us it would clear up in the afternoon, so we prepared for the hike. We held off starting our until the rain had stopped, drove out to Sky Meadows to leave my car in the parking lot, then drive up to the Thompson area in Linda's.

We started out at one o'clock with the mountain mist still heavy, but within an hour the sun was out. There weren't as many trilliums on this part of the mountain as on the slopes below, just patches here and there. A small native orchid, Showy Orchis, was blooming all over the woods (in photo above); we saw one yellow Lady Slipper orchid, but the pink Lady Slipper orchids I'd hoped to find eluded us. There were many other by-now familiar wildflowers like rue anemone, a few new to me (wild comfrey), and one quite rare.

The hike proved to be longer than I'd anticipated, but the woods in spring are so lovely, the spirit feels refreshed at every turn. No paintings to bring back this weekend--just a few photos and my old quite muddy and tired self.