Coming
across a cluster of Indian pipes is an eerie, almost shocking experience.
Ghostly and pale in the dark of the mid-summer woods, their freakish white flesh
looks more like some oddly formed fungus than the wildflowers they are. This
albino of the flowering plant world is somewhat closely related to the
dogwoods, heaths, and even the evergreen laurels and rhododendrons. Like some
of these cousins, Indian pipe has learned ways to take advantage of other life
forms in order to live in places where few plants could survive.
The white or bluish-white, almost leafless plants bear a single five-petaled flower that, when young, faces downward. The shape of the plant resembles a clay pipe whose stem has been stuck in the earth, and the flower is not unlike the bowl. Scientists call it Monotropa uniflora, meaning “once-turned” and “single-flowered.” “Once-turned” refers to the fact that the flowers face the ground early in their life and then turn straight upward once they begin producing seeds.
The Indian pipe is a member of a tiny clan of two to four species – scientists disagree on the number. Only it and pinesap (M. hypopithys) live in North America. Indian pipe may be found from Maine to Florida, and from Washington to northern California. They also range across southern Canada and into Alaska.
Monotropa is in turn a member of the Indian
pipe family (Monotropaceae), a small clan of 10 genera and 12 species,
mostly found in the temperate Northern Hemisphere. They include the equally
unusual pine drops, pigmy pipes, snow plants, and cone plants, none of which
are very common.
The Indian
pipe is strange not only in appearance, but also in lifestyle. Botanists at
first thought it was a parasite, feeding directly off the roots of other
plants. But Indian pipe’s own thick, brittle cluster of roots never touches
those of other plants. Then scientists decided it was a saprophyte (from the
Greek, “rotten plant”), living chiefly on the decaying parts of other plants,
particularly trees. However, botanists now believe the plant is an
“epiparasite” – a parasite that forms a relationship with another parasite to
obtain its nutrients. Its roots employ certain mycorrhizal fungi in the soil to
obtain food from live roots of green plants such as such as trees. The fungus
connects the Indian pipe with the host roots by means of the filaments.
Scientists have not yet figured out whether the fungus gains anything from its
attachment to the Indian pipe -- it seems to serve only as a conduit between
the tree root and the herb. However, botanist A. Randall Olson, a
longtime fan and student of Monotropaceae, has come across an “obscure
report from a botanist who died before he had a chance to publish his findings
that phosphorus in some form may be transferred to the fungal partner.”
Though it may not look much like a typical blossom, the Indian pipe flower has most or all of the equipment found in typical flowers. It offers both nectar and pollen, and while little research has been done on the range of insects that will visit it, small bumblebees have been seen on the flowers. “I suspect that certain flies would not be out of the question either,” said Dr. Olson, who is head of the Department of Environmental Sciences at Nova Scotia Agricultural College. Dr. Olson said that while the flower has no scent discernable to humans, “the floral organs may be releasing other substances detectable to the insects alone.” What’s more, he said, while Indian pipe’s whitish color is bright to human eyes, insects may perceive colors that make the plant even more attractive, helping it to stand out like a beacon on the shaded forest floor.
Since it
obtains all needed nutrients from other plants, Indian pipe doesn’t require
leaves, the food-making factories that most plants possess. Thus, in the long
process of evolution, only vestiges of leaves remain in the form of scale-like
appendages on the stems. Nor does the plant need chlorophyll, the green
chemical employed by most plants in using sunlight to create carbohydrates for
food. Thus, the entire Indian pipe lacks any trace of green.
Indian
pipes favor beech woods, but will live in others, and it is said that the best
time to find them is after a heavy, soaking rain in mid-summer. They always live in shade, never
in open sun. The roots send up shoots only when they are ready to bloom.
Since they don’t need the sun to manufacture food, they don’t require a long
season of above-ground parts. As soon as blooming and seed making is completed,
the above-ground parts turn black and wither away.
The plant
can’t be picked for display -- not that anyone would want it for a bouquet --
because Indian pipe’s flesh soon blackens when cut or even bruised, and oozes a
clear, gelatinous substance. Its natural color and tendency to “melt” on
picking earned it the name ice plant. Other names include like ghost flower,
corpse plant, and wax plant. “This curious herb well deserves its name of
corpse plant, so like is it to the general bluish waxy appearance of the dead,”
wrote Dr. Charles F. Millspaugh. “Then, too, it is cool and clammy to the
touch, and rapidly decomposes and turns black even when carefully handled.”
“It is the
weirdest flower that grows, so palpably ghastly that we feel almost a cheerful
satisfaction in the perfection of its performance and our own responsive
thrill, just as we do in a good ghost story,” said Alice Morse Earle.
Its common name comes, of course, from the shape of the plant and probably from
the fact that it was first known as an Indian herb.
Pinesap,
North America’s only other Monotropa, is a circumboreal species found
throughout the Northern Hemisphere north of the tropics. In England, it’s known
as the yellow bird’s nest, reflecting its tangled cluster of thick roots.
Indian pipe’s roots are similar, and it’s been called nest root and nest plant.
Its use as a medicine has earned Indian pipes even more names. American Indians employed it as an eye lotion -- whence the name, eyebright -- as well as for colds and fevers. Americans of the 19th Century treated spasms, fainting spells, and nervous conditions with the plant and called it convulsion root, fitroot, and convulsion weed. Mixed with fennel, it was once also used as a douche.
Writing
more than a century ago in The Botanical Gazette, Dr. R.E. Kunze told
this story: “Fourteen years ago -- it was in the early part of July -- I went
woodcock-shooting with two friends, near Hackensack, N.J., and while taking
some luncheon in a beech grove along the course of Saddle River, I found a
large patch of ground literally covered with Monotropa uniflora in full
bloom; it covered a space some five feet wide by nine feet long, a beautiful
sight of snow-white stems and nodding flowers. Being in need of some just then,
I proceeded to fill my game-bag; and to the question, what it was used for,
answered: ‘Good for sore eyes’; little thinking that the party addressed was
suffering from a chronic inflammation of the eye-lids, the edges of which had a
very fiery-red appearance. No sooner said than he proceeded to take in his
game-bag a supply also, and he made very good use of it, as I ascertained
afterwards. His inflamed lids were entirely cured in four weeks’ time, and he
has had no further trouble since, by applying the fresh juice of the stems he
obtained while it lasted.”
Today, few
herbals even mention Indian pipe, possibly because the plants contain toxic
substances.
Because of
their unusual appearance, Indians pipes are, once seen, never forgotten. I can
remember finding them as a child on Nantucket Island and being told their name.
That, the daisy, black-eyed Susan, and violet were probably the only
wildflowers I could name till well into adulthood.
They are
not the stuff of wildflower gardens. While Indian pipe produces seeds,
gardeners shouldn’t be optimistic about having them germinate into flowering
plants. Conditions must be just right, including the presence of the correct
fungi. You can always try, but remember that the plants will need total shade
in summer. Clarence and Eleanor Birdseye, the frozen food folks who wrote a
book, Growing Woodland Plants, pointed out that it’s virtually
impossible to transplant Indian pipe. That makes sense since digging up the
plant would break its vital fungal connections with the host neighbors.
Nature
writers who prefer showier plants have given Indian pipe some bad reviews.
Explaining its colorless and parasitic qualities, Neltje Blanchan penned a
lengthy “attack,” including: “No wonder this degenerate hangs its head; no
wonder it grows black with shame on being picked, as if its wickedness were
only just then discovered... To one who can read the faces of flowers, as it
were, it stands a branded sinner.”
Arthur Craig Quick suggested that its ancestor was “an honest plant”
that “must have been imbued by some evil genius with the idea that the world
owed it a living…Forthwith it began its search for a way to get its living
through the work of others.”
However,
poet Mary Potter Thacher Higginson (1844-1941) offered a more pleasant
description of these unusual plants:
In
shining groups, each stem a pearly ray
Weird
flecks of light within the shadowed wood,
They
dwell aloof, a spotless sisterhood.
No Angelus,
except the wild bird’s lay,
Awakes
these forest nuns; yet night and day,
Their
heads are bent, as if in prayerful mood.
A touch
will mar their snow, and tempests rude
Defile;
but in the mist fresh blossoms stray
From
spirit-gardens, just beyond our ken.
Each
year we seek their virgin haunts, to look
Upon
new loveliness, and watch again
Their
shy devotions near the singing brook;
Then,
mingling in the dizzy stir of men,
Forget
the vows made in that clustered nook.
From a wicked degenerate to saintly nun: such are the extremes of the human imagination.
This is a chapter from The Secrets of Wildflowers.
Text and photo © Copyright 2003 Jack Sanders. All rights reserved.
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