Tiny Plants: Idahoa

This is a post I wrote three years ago as a guest writer for a blog called Closet Botanist. That blog has since dissolved, hence the re-post.

This year, we returned to the location in the Boise Foothills where I encountered the plant that inspired this post. I found what might be seedlings of the tiny plant. If that’s the case, the phenology is a bit delayed compared to three years ago. I’ll check again in a week or so. Until then, meet Idahoa.

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I have taken a real liking to tiny plants. So many of the plants we regularly interact with are relatively big. Large trees loom above us. Tall shrubs greet us at eye level. Flowering perennials come up around our knees or higher. But how often do we get down low and observe the plants that hug the ground or that reach just a few centimeters above it? Turf grass is ubiquitous and groundcovers are common, but among such low growing plants (or plants kept low), even more diminutive species lurk.

It was a hunt for a tiny plant that sent me down a certain trail in the Boise Foothills earlier this spring. Listening to a talk by a local botanist at an Idaho Native Plant Society meeting, I learned about Idahoa scapigera. A genus named after Idaho!? I was immediately intrigued. Polecat Gulch was the place to see it, so off I went.

Commonly known as oldstem idahoa, flatpod, or Scapose scalepod, Idahoa scapigera is the only species in its genus. It is an annual plant in the mustard family, which means it is related to other small, annual mustard species like Draba verna. It is native to far western North America and is distributed from British Columbia down to California and east into Montana. It occurs in a variety of habitat types found in meadows, mountains, and foothills.

Idahoa scapigera is truly tiny. Before it flowers, it forms a basal rosette of leaves that max out at about 3 centimeters long. Next it sends up several skinny flower stalks that reach maybe 10 centimeters high (some are much shorter). One single flower is born atop each stalk. Its petite petals are white and are cupped by red to purple sepals. Its fruit is a flat round or oblong disk held vertically as though it is ready to give neighboring fruits a high five. Happening upon a patch of these plants in fruit is a real joy.

Which brings me to my hunt. It was the morning of March 20th (the first day of Spring) when I headed down the Polecat Gulch trail in search of Idahoa, among other things. The trail forms a loop around the gulch and is about 6 miles long with options for shortening the loop by taking trails that cut through the middle. I have yet to make it all the way around. Stopping every 10 yards to look at plants, insects, and other things makes for slow hiking.

I was about a half mile – 1 hour or more – into the hike when Idahoa entered my view. A group of them were growing on the upslope side of the trail, greeting me just below waist level. Many of them had already finished flowering and had fresh green fruits topping their thin stalks. At this location they are a late winter/early spring ephemeral. I made a mental note of the site and decided to return when the fruits had matured. Next year, I will head out earlier in hopes of catching more of them in flower.

On the way to Idahoa, I noted numerous other small, green things growing in the sandy soil. It turns out there are countless other tiny plants to see and explore. It got me thinking about all the small things that go unnoticed right underneath our feet or outside of our view. I resolved to move slower and get down lower to observe the wonders I’ve been overlooking all this time.

Further Reading:

Poisonous Plants: Red Squill

Humans have been at war with rats since time immemorial. Ridding ourselves of their nuisance behavior is increasingly unlikely, and in fact, some scientists believe that, following human extinction, rats will be poised to take our place as the most dominant species on earth. Despite being thwarted repeatedly, we make tireless attempts to control rat populations. One major weapon in our arsenal is poison, and one of the most popular rat poisons was derived from a plant with a formidable bulb.

Urginea maritima (known synonymously as Drimia maritima, among other Latin names) is a geophyte native to the Mediterranean Basin, where it survives the hot, dry summer months by going dormant, waiting things out underground. Growth occurs in the cooler months, its bulb expanding annually before it finally flowers late one year after reaching at least 6 years old. Its flower stalk rises to as tall as 2 meters, extending heavenward from a bulb that can weigh as much as a kilogram. Its inflorescence is long, narrow, and loaded with small flowers that are generally white, but sometimes pink or red.

The oversized bulb of Urginea maritima — via wikimedia commons

Urginea maritima is commonly known as red squill or white squill (and sometimes simply, squill). Other common names include sea onion, sea squill, and giant squill. It is related the squill referred to in the Harry Potter universe, which is known botanically as Scilla. However, plants in the genus Scilla are much more dimunutive and generally flower in the spring rather than the fall. Like red squill, Scilla species are known to be poisonous; however, they don’t have the reputation for producing deadly rat poison that red squill does.

Like so many poisonous plants, red squill has a long history of being used medicinally to treat all sorts of ailments. As with any folk remedy or natural medicine, a doctor should be consulted before attempting to treat oneself or others. A 1995 report tells of a woman who ate red squill bulbs to treat her arthritic pain. She exhibited symptoms characteristic of ingesting cardiac glycosides – the toxic compound found in red squill – including nausea, vomiting, and seizures. She died 30 hours after eating the bulbs.

red squill (Urginea maritima) — via wikimedia commons

Toxic compounds are found throughout the plant, but are particularly concentrated in the bulb (especially its core) and the roots. Toxicity is at its highest during summer dormancy and when the plant is flowering and fruiting. The compound used to poison rats is called scilliroside. Bulbs are harvested in the summer, chopped up, and dried. The chips are then ground down to a powder and added to rat bait. Results are highly variable, so to increase its effectiveness, a concentrate can be made by isolating the toxic compound using solvents.

Red squill was introduced to southern California in the 1940’s as a potential agricultural crop. The region’s Mediterranean climate and the plant’s drought tolerance made it ideal for the area. The bulbs can be grown for manufacturing rat poison, and the flowers harvested for the cut flower industry. Breeding efforts have been made to produce highly toxic varieties of red squill for rat poison production.

the flowers of red squill (Urginea maritima) — via wikimedia commons

Around the time red squill was being evaluated as an agricultural crop, studies were done not only on its toxicity to rats, but to other animals as well. A 1949 article details trials of a red squill derived poison called Silmurine. It was fed to rats as well as a selection of farm animals.  Results of the study where “not wholly satisfactory” when it came to poisoning rats. Silmurine was less effective on Rattus rattus than it was on Rattus norvegicus. Thankfully, however, it was found to be relatively safe for the domestic animals it was administered to. Most puked it up or avoided it. Two humans accidentally became part of the study when they inadvertently inhaled the poison powder. Ten hours later they experienced headaches, vomiting, and diarrhea, “followed by lethargy and loss of appetite,” but “no prolonged effects.”

Vomiting is key. Ingesting scilliroside induces vomiting, which helps expel the poison. However, rodents can’t vomit (surprisingly), which is why the poison is generally effective on them.

Today, squill is available as an ornamental plant for the adventurous gardener. For more about that, check out this video featuring a squill farmer:

More Poisonous Plants posts on Awkward Botany:

Podcast Review: Botanical Mystery Tour

My interest is piqued any time plants are featured or plugged in popular culture. Hence my ongoing series of posts, Botany in Popular Culture, featuring Futurama, Saga of the Swamp Thing, etc. Plants just don’t get enough airtime, so it must be celebrated when they do. Which is why I was excited to learn about Chicago Botanic Garden‘s new podcast, Botanical Mystery Tour, in which the plants referenced in pop culture take center stage.

The hosts, as they state in each episode’s introduction, “dive into the botany hidden in our favorite stories.” To help with the discussion, they bring in experts that work at Chicago Botanic Garden to explore the science (and fiction) behind the plant references. In addition to discussing pop culture and the related science, the guests share details about the work they do at the Garden and some of the research they are working on.

In the first episode, Jasmine and Erica ask Paul CaraDonna about the drone bees featured in an episode of Black Mirror. Since many bee species are in decline, will we have to resort to employing robot bees to pollinate plants that rely on bee-assisted pollination? A great discussion about native bees and colony collapse disorder ensues.

(But maybe the idea of autonomous drone insects isn’t too far-fetched…)

In episode two, the hosts ask why humans are so obsessed with corpse flowers. Thousands of people flock to botanical gardens to see these humongous, stinky flowers on the rare occasions they are in bloom, so what is so appealing about Amorphophallus titanum? Patti Vitt joins the discussion to share details about this fascinating plant.

A corpse flower in bloom is a brief and uncommon occurrence, reminiscent of the Sumatran Century Flower in The Simpsons and the 40 Year Orchid in Dennis the Menace.

 

The third episode features the sarlaccs of Star Wars. It turns out, sarlaccs are carnivorous plants. This discovery spawns an interesting discussion with horticulturist Tom Weaver about what defines a carnivorous plant and the various ways that different carnivorous plant species capture and kill their prey.

The fourth (and latest) episode is an exploration into the magical world of mushrooms. In Alice in Wonderland, Alice encounters a large, hookah-smoking caterpillar sitting atop a giant mushroom. Are there mushrooms big enough that a person could actually sit on them like Alice does? Greg Mueller joins the podcast to address this and many other mycology-based questions. The conversation includes a great discussion about why a botanical garden (whose main focus is plants) would be interested in fungus.

The discussions in this podcast are fun and enlightening. The hosts shine the spotlight on often overlooked characters in popular media, and with the help of their guests, lead captivating conversations about the science related to these characters. With only a handful of episodes available so far, it will be easy to get caught up. And then you, like me, will find yourself anxiously looking forward to embarking on another Botanical Mystery Tour.

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Is there a plant-themed podcast or podcast episode you would like to recommend? Please do so in the comment section below.