What is a Herbarium and what is it for: Jamestown's famous weed

Today for my blog post I figured I would do a traditional blog post (for this blog, anyway) along with a "Part 2" that talks a bit about what a Herbarium is and what use it has to science. I've been talking a bit in recent blogs about my personal herbarium that I'm making with my Garden List species, and I've also done a few for the Herbarium at Western of species I've found on campus that only recently appeared. I'm a creature of habit and tend to walk the same path to go to the same place; because I happen to pay attention to the "green stuff" covering the ground, I usually notice when something weird pops up that wasn't there before. I'll talk a bit about one of my favourite weedy plants, which also happens to be my very first plant collection in the herbarium! Sandra, who I featured in a sneaky picture in a previous blog post HERE, is the Herbarium Assistant and Acting Herbarium Curator until the position is filled and she found it hysterical how excited I was about collecting and pressing my very first Herbarium specimen. Since then...I'm hooked. Anyone want a plant collection pressed and dried? I'm your girl. Even better (because it's more fun), want a pressed and dried collection glued and mounted on herbarium paper? Let me know.

Here we go! My favourite weed. :)

Species name: Datura stramonium

Common name: Jimson weed, Jamestown weed, devil's cucumber, datura

Location: UWO Campus

Jimsonweed (or Jimson weed...same plant, along with about 20 other common names this plant has) is my favourite weedy species that we have here in North America. Not just because of it's many common names (HOW AWESOME is the name "devil's cucumber"?!), but because of the rich history it has in the making of the identity of North America today. Without this plant, I doubt anyone living in the United States or Canada would have the same kind of "national identity" that we have today. This plant is widely believed to have originated in North America, but was spread across the globe very early for its recreational uses and so that's difficult to confirm. Since I really like this plant, I'll give it the benefit of the doubt and say it's native to North America...because I can :) It can be weedy and spread quite quickly, so if you do decide to plant it you'll want to make sure you dead-head the flowers before the seed pods form (or, if you like the appearance of the seed pods make sure you pick them off the plant before they crack open and disperse their seeds).

Jimsonweed is in the nightshade family (Solanaceae), which is the same plant family that we find the edible food crops potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, and eggplants, as well as some ornamental species like henbane, mandrake, belladonna, and deadly nightshade (which, contrary to its common name is actually one of the plants that's least likely to kill you in this family, unless you're a small child or a beloved family pet). Like many of the species listed above, this plant is deadly poisonous. And when I say deadly, I mean deadly. Consuming the seeds from one seed pod would be enough to cause catastrophic organ failure in an adult human which would very quickly lead to death. Should you decide to only consume a few seeds, maybe 25 or so, it would also lead to catastrophic organ failure. This circumstance, however, results in a very slow, very painful death as your body slowly shuts down. Consuming only a small number of the seeds of this plant *may* result in a hallucinogenic trip, but it has equal likelihood in resulting in nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, dehydration, and you wishing that the world would end right then and there (but you'll live). A few years ago there was a string of deaths of high school students in the United States, and it turns out that they all died from consuming Jimsonweed seeds. One of their friends had read on the internet that they're a free way of getting high, so they all ate them. Kids, don't believe everything you read on the internet! This plant is not worth it...trust me. Jimsonweed is fun to look at (how awesome are those seed pods?!), the flowers have an absolutely wonderful aroma, and they provide some nice fall colour to a garden. But don't, under any circumstances, eat it. Ever!

So why did I say above that this plant is probably the single most important plant species for the development of the identity of North America as it is today? Well...it comes from this plant's other major common name, the Jamestown weed. This name comes from Jamestown, Virginia, which was the site of Bacon's Rebellion. Long before Europeans sailed across the ocean blue to settle in what is now the United States, there were people already living there. In fact, there were a lot of people. About 14,000 people lived in and around Jamestown in the early 1600s when the first wave of settlers arrived. The local people were used to the types of harsh conditions to be expected in the winter months, but the Europeans were not so lucky. Many of them died, and it is widely speculated that the few that remained turned to cannibalism in order to survive. During the second wave of settlement, the "new Americans" were smarter: use the locals to build us shelters and show us how to gather food, and kill them if they refuse. There were many clashes between groups, resulting in hundreds of deaths. Nathanial Bacon decided he had had enough of the British fighting with the local people, and started an uprising. Governor William Berkeley had started teaming up with the local people to start building a nation. This angered some of the early settlers, since these same people were responsible for the deaths of many of their friends and family (it swings both ways, but I guess that wasn't the point). Bacon gathered people (estimates are between 300 and 500 people) to fight against Berkeley, eventually driving him out of Virginia and back to Britain. One of the major turning points in the rebellion was when British soldiers started flipping sides and fighting against their countrymen and their own Governor...all because they had been drugged. Bacon observed the local people preparing tea made out of a benign green plant (likely some kind of mint or other species which has a strong flavour, since Jimsonweed is reported to not taste very good) and sprinkled with 2 or 3 of the seeds of the Devil Plant. He prepared this same tea to offer to the freezing British soldiers, who promptly hallucinated for two weeks and became violently ill. While hallucinating, the soldiers were manipulated into amusing Bacon and his supporters, and once the drug's effects wore off they returned to normal, confused as to where the time had gone. When they were ostracized by their fellow soldiers for the actions performed while "under the influence," they decided to flip sides and help drive Governor Berkeley out of their new settlement. Berkeley retreated across the river, but with Bacon's death in 1676 a new leader of the Rebellion took over: John Ingram. Unfortunately, Ingram wasn't a very smart man. He decided to start a fight against the Pamunkey people, which were loyal supporters of Berkeley and even supplied him with warrior fighters. Between the British and the Pamunkey, the Rebellion was defeated and the rebels were driven out of the new settlement. The "good guys" had won. It has been speculated that if the British soldiers drugged with Jimsonweed hadn't flipped sides, Ingram never would have had enough supporters to wager a war against the Pamunkey people. Without this pivotal attack, Berkeley might have decided the war wasn't worth it and retreated back to Britain. What would this side of the world look like if this had of happened? It's impossible to speculate, but I bet it would be very different than what it is today. All thanks to a plant.

Jamestown, Virginia actually has an incredibly fascinating history in the early settlement of North America, and the independence of the United States. If you'd like to read more about the waves of settlement, the clashes that occurred, and the REAL story of Pocahontas (yes, that happened in Jamestown, too!) you can read more on the Wikipedia page HERE.

This plant isn't all bad. The active ingredients leading to hallucinations (and ultimately death) are alkaloids called atropine and scopolamine. Some of you might recognize these two compounds, as atropine is one of the most successful drug compounds used in treating severe asthma. In large amounts, atropine causes the paralysis of the lung tissue and the dilation of the bronchioles which increases air flow. In smaller amounts the paralysis occurs to a much smaller extent allowing the patient to still be able to breathe, but dilates the bronchioles to increase air flow. Scopolamine is also a very important drug in modern medicine; it's used to treat symptoms of Parkinson's disease and is one of the most effective anti-tremor medications (in small concentrations, of course!). Datura itself (the combination of these two alkaloids) is used to treat morphine addiction. Because of the effects on the body that it has, there are certain conditions that it will aggravate like glaucoma or difficulty urinating. Glaucoma is caused by an increase in pressure of the fluid of the eye, which can be aggravated by atropine (which causes the dilation of blood vessels, which would increase blood flow to the eye and increase the pressure even more). One of the main effects of both atropine and scopolamine is the inhibition of the parasympathetic system, which is responsible for the regulation of urination. If you're already having trouble urinating, inhibiting this further could be disastrous. But, again, this plant WILL KILL YOU if you try to make some kind of medicinal concoction on your own. Prescribed drugs have these compounds in very small, controlled amounts. The plant does what it pleases. Don't be stupid.

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Now that you know why this plant is just so awesome, I figured I would talk a bit about this "Herbarium thing": what it is, what it's used for, why they're important, and what is stored in them.

A herbarium is like a library, but for dried plant material. When you walk into a herbarium (which is climate-controlled to prevent insect infestation, so usually kept around 15 C) the first thing that you'll notice are rows upon rows of cabinets. The cabinets contain stacks of sheets of card stock, on which is glued (or sewn, if you've got a really old collection) a plant collection. This collection is identified by species name, a location of where the collection was made (which now includes coordinates), any important information to go along with the collection, who made the collection, and a collection number (often called an accession number). Herbarium specimens are very similar to books: they have titles, authors, years of publication, and a brief description (like liner notes) of what can be found on the page. These specimens are then preserved for all of eternity, and databased so they can be accessed by researchers from other institutions. Some herbaria have thousands of collections (the Western Herbarium has about 60,000 collections), while others like the New York Botanical Gardens or the Paris Natural History Museum have millions of collections (about 10 million at NYBG, 8-9 million in Paris). Herbarium collections are invaluable to science since they show a snapshot of the plants living in an area in any given period of time. The herbarium collections at Western are "young" compared to other institutions since our oldest specimen is from the late 1800s. For my research, the oldest herbarium specimen I received on loan was from 1799, and many were from the 1820s and 1830s. There are some collections in Kew and in Paris from the 1500s! Herbarium specimens have been used in a wide variety of different types of biological studies, from studies about taxonomy (where you study old and new collections of species to look for new species "lost" in herbarium collections or to help you determine whether what you collected is a new species or not) to conservation biology. Herbarium specimens are actually becoming more and more crucial in conservation and restoration biology as habitats are becoming more and more degraded. What plant species used to be present in a given area, compared to what is there today? Can species that used to be present even be located in the same area now? Has the composition of which species are present completely changed? What does this mean? There have even been cases of determining that a plant species is now extinct in the wild based on herbarium collections. The species was collected from an area, described, and hasn't been seen since.

So how do we make a herbarium collection? I figured it was only fitting that my very first plant collection ever to be stored in a herbarium should be my favourite plant: Jimsonweed. When I found the plant growing on campus I carefully pulled it out of the ground to get the root ball intact, knocked off all of the extra dirt, and brought it in to Sandra in the herbarium for pressing. Here's what the plant looks like, in front of a standard piece of herbarium paper (11.5" x 16.5") for scale: 

Now, it should be obvious even to someone who's never made a herbarium collection before that this isn't going to work. Half the plant is missing; it's about 2 times bigger than the size of the paper. So what to do? Well...cut it. All of this preparation of a specimen needs to be done before it's dried, or else the dried plant will just shatter when you try to manipulate it later. I cut the bottom off right at the edge of the paper, and the bottom half became "sheet 2 of 2" for this collection. Next, the collection needs to go between pieces of newspaper and pressed out flat in a herbarium press, which then goes in the dryer to dry the specimen as much as possible (which can take up to a month, depending on how juicy the plant material is!). When a collection is pressed, maintaining the integrity of the plant is very important, because if someone wants to see your collection in 60 years they have to be able to determine what it even is. Showing the upper side and the lower side of leaves is important, but never the same leaf. Folding leaves when drying makes them very fragile and should be avoided when possible. The flowers of the plant, if present, should be kept as visible as possible and all other plant material should be pulled away. The seed pods, if present, should remain on the plant and should also be easily visible. Once all of the manipulation is done, put the newspaper-plant-sandwich into the press, the press into the drying oven, and forget about it for at least a week.

Once the press comes out of the oven, the sheets of newspaper can carefully be removed and opened. Sometimes tweezers can help to carefully pick the newspaper off of the plant material, since sometimes plants "juice" when they're squeezed into a tight location like the herbarium press. As long as the collection is dry, it's ready to be mounted on herbarium paper.

Grab yourself some 11.5" x 16.5" rag-bond acid-free paper and some acid-free glue. Contrary to what you might think, the less glue the better (learned that one the hard way once...). Decide which side is "up" and which side is "down" of your collection, and dab some glue in important places on the side that will be down. Important places would be at major intersections on the stem where pieces could break in two, along leaf petioles, or where the flower attaches to the stem. One thing you DON'T want to do is glue the entire flower to the paper, or the entire leaf. When someone else looks at your specimens they like to be able to see the underside of all of these things, so leave some space where they could carefully be pulled up off the paper to inspect the underside. When all of that is done, the specimen needs to be weighted down onto the paper. Herbarium presses might be able to squish things pretty well, but some plants are great resistors to the squishing. No matter what you do, you just can't get them quite flat enough. Common washers and nuts can be used to weigh the plant material into the glue dabs until the glue dries enough that the plant can't escape it. Once it's all glued and weighted down, it looks like this:

Let the glue dry, and while you're waiting you can make yourself a label! The label needs to be laser-printed using acid-free ink on acid-free paper that is BRIGHT white (even brighter than normal printer paper) and needs to be formatted according to the herbarium that you're depositing your specimen into. This is what our herbarium labels look like, and all of the information that we put onto them:

(my collection is #53,018 in the herbarium! Woo!)

Now it's time to glue the label onto the herbarium paper. They always go in the bottom right corner, so hopefully you saved space for it there (again, learned this the hard way once, too...). Glue it on with acid-free, extra-tacky label glue (which, of course, is different than specimen glue...). Make sure the glue doesn't leak out the edges! If it does, wipe it off right away. We want these looking pretty:

And now you can do any finishing touches! You can see that there are four of the big nuts weighing something down above the label on the sheet on the left. When the seed pods of Jimsonweed are dried, they split open to release the seeds. We want to keep these! Any plant material that falls off of a pressed herbarium specimen is still important material. These go into a little paper envelope, which is glued directly above the label of the specimen (or on page 1 of 2, if there is more than 1 sheet that goes with a single collection).

Now you're done! I was so proud of this silly specimen. It's just a dried plant glued onto paper, but it was my first dried plant glued onto paper! And hopefully it will be useful to someone some day. Now I've got nearly 90 others courtesy of my Garden List and trust me...botanical craft time never gets old :)

The chestnut that horses don't want

Species name: Aesculus hippocastanum

Common name: horse chestnut

Location: Western University campus

The horse chestnut is a tree native to southern Europe around the Mediterranean and the Balkan Mountains. While the native range of this species is actually quite small, it is one of the dominant species that exists there and is also widely planted around the world. It can be a pretty nasty species (more on that below), but has a stunning flower display in late April and early May. The fruits, looking very similar to the fruits of the Ohio buckeye (which you can read all about HERE), start to appear in late summer. They are mostly left alone, but can be eaten (and seem to be enjoyed) by deer.

The common name of this plant is incredibly misleading, but is based in history. First the "horse" part refers to an anecdotal story that after horses ate the fruit, they would no longer complain of chest pain. You'd have to be some sort of pretty awesome horse-whisperer to be able to have a horse tell you it no longer had chest pain! The other minor detail to this story...you wouldn't be able to hear the horse telling you "Thanks! My chest pain is gone!" over the sounds of its seizures. Horse chestnut seeds and the fruit walls are poisonous to horses and should never be fed to them under any circumstances. Horses are pretty smart animals; they won't touch them. The other half of the name comes from the fact that it was believed that this tree was closely related to the American chestnut tree, mostly due to the fact that they have similar fruit and seed appearances. The leaves, however, are wildly different and the flowers of the true chestnut trees are also not nearly as showy. They are not easily confused, nor are they closely related! The true chestnuts and the horse chestnut are only distantly related.

The uses of the horse chestnut are so varied it makes me wonder if this really is a "miracle tree". The first use I'm just going to do the ultimate "thou shalt not do" and just copy-paste from the horse chestnut Wikipedia article because it's so mind-boggling. Here it is:
"In the past, horse-chestnut seeds were used in France and Switzerland for whitening hemp, flax, silk and wool. They contain a soapy juice, fit for washing of linens and stuffs, for milling of caps and stockings, etc., and for fulling of cloth. For this, 20 horse-chestnut seeds were sufficient for six litres of water. They were peeled then rasped, or dried and ground in a malt or other mill. The water must be soft, either rain or river water; hard well water will not work. The nuts are then steeped in cold water, which soon becomes frothy, as with soap, and then turns milky white. The liquid must be stirred well at first, and then, after standing to settle, strained or poured off clear. Linen washed in this liquid, and afterwards rinsed in clear running water, takes on an agreeable light sky-blue colour. It takes spots out of both linen and wool, and never damages or injures the cloth."
That is...crazy. How is this not marketed as a product?! A "natural" way to clean wool and linen, and the fibres are not destroyed in the process. The only thing I can figure is that it must be prepared fresh each time, and so it's viable today as a marketable product. If it was, it could be turned into a "Tide Stick type of product"--a Wool Stick?--and sold as a spot cleaner. This could be quite the money-maker...

The second historical use of the plant is as a soap and shampoo, along the same lines as the first use. The seeds are ground into boiling water in a sealable container (which sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, but what do I know?!), shaken vigorously (try not to have the container explode on you...), and then strained. Once the liquid is cool enough to be applied to the scalp, it works to remove the buildup from your hair. Nifty! Not nifty enough for me personally to want to try it, but nifty all the same.

Along a totally different vein, the seeds of the horse chestnut can also be broken into small pieces and then added to a fermentation solution containing the bacterium Clostridium acetobutylicum, from the same genus of bacteria that gives us botulism which is a very potent type of food poisoning, which produces acetone as an end product of fermentation (instead of the usual ethanol like brewer's yeast produces). Acetone can then be diluted to make nail polish remover, or it could be used later in the production of cordite (it's first use, prior to nail polish remover), an explosive used in bombs (and as a gunpowder replacement in other explosive devices like bullets).

And yet another completely different use, in order for an outdoor patio to be called a true "beer garden," it must be shaded by horse chestnuts according to Bavarian law. Now the term applies to any outdoor patio space where beer is the main item consumed, but that didn't used to be the case. Bavarian law also dictates (as an aside) the only four ingredients which may be used in the beer-making process: water, barley, hops, and yeast. If the "beer" that you drink contains anything other than those four ingredients (such as wheat beers, rice beers, or beers flavoured with things other than hops), it technically cannot be called beer.

One of the compounds found in horse chestnut seed extract, aescin, is used medicinally to treat a condition called chronic venous insufficiency or CVI. This condition arises when the veins can no longer return deoxygenated blood in your body back to your heart (where it pumps it to your lungs to push out the carbon dioxide and pick up new oxygen). This can result in severe pain due to a lack of oxygen in the extremities, and in especially severe cases can result in the loss of limbs. The causes of this condition can be quite varied, with specific medical conditions often arising in CVI (like diabetes, MS, and even a brief disruption of oxygen to a developing embryo in the womb) or the result of repeated leg injuries (like in the case of paratroopers, tree-climbers, mountain climbers, or people who climb utility poles for repairs). This is not a do-it-yourself medical treatment, however. The aescin must be carefully extracted from the seeds and purified in order to exclude any esculin, a deadly toxic glycoside also present in horse chestnut seeds, from the preparation. If even a small amount of esculin is ingested it can result in seizure, vomiting, severe dehydration, coma, and even death. Unfortunately, this doesn't stop homeopathic practitioners from prescribing it as a homeopathic remedy to thin the blood. Yet another example of the idea that just because it's natural doesn't mean it's good for you or even safe. Be aware of what you're putting in your body and the potential side effects!

The creeping vine from Virginia

Species name: Parthenocissus quinquefolia

Common name: Virginia creeper

Location: Western University campus

As promised in my last blog, this post is about the "other" common vine with blackish-blue berries common, and native, to this area: Virginia creeper. Many people are actually surprised to learn that this species is native, as we don't often associate native species as being potentially invasive species. Anyone who has ever grown Virginia creeper in their garden under ideal conditions knows it will absolutely explode in growth and smother out anything in its path; a rather unfortunate characteristic since I like to encourage gardening with native species! Fortunately, Virginia creeper isn't as vigorous as grower as periwinkle or kudzu, so when you go to bed one night and wake up the next morning your house won't be covered in it (that has never actually happened, but at times it sure feels like both of those plants could grow that fast). The Virginia creeper vine is native to eastern North America, and its native range extends from Quebec and Ontario south to Texas and Alabama. There's a bit of an argument about whether or not its native range is also extending into northeastern Mexico (a few botanists believe it to be either introduced or a different species, depending on who you ask).

Virginia creeper is one of the banes of my existence because it doesn't follow the rules set out by its Latin name. The species epithet "quinquefolia" refers to its five leaflets, all originating from the same point on the petiole which is referred to as a palmately compound leaf. Unfortunately, no one told the Virginia creeper that it had five leaflets originating from a common point on the petiole. When young, sometimes the leaves only produce three leaflets (called a trifolate leaf). This is all fine and dandy, except what other plant might you know about that produces three leaflets from a common point, with the same general leaflet shape as Virginia creeper, and can also grow as a smothering vine along tree trunks? That's right, poison ivy. If you don't want to get mistaken for poison ivy, don't go looking like poison ivy! Geez. There have been a few times I've been out in forests where I could have SWORN that what my supervisor was grabbing onto to push out of the way was poison ivy, but turns out he knew it was only an abnormal Virginia creeper vine. Better to be safe than sorry I think, so I steer clear. Based on the skin sensitivity I display towards other stinging or itchy things (plant or animal-based), I would probably blow up like a balloon if I got the two confused. Keep trifolate leaves away from me and I'm a happy camper :)

All of that being said, Virginia creeper can be a nasty plant in its own right. The whole plant contains oxalic acid, which can be a very potent skin irritant to some people (and those with sensitive skin to other plant-based toxins, especially rhubarb juice, are most likely to be affected). The berries also contain very high levels of oxalic acid and so should not be eaten. Rarely will they cause any type of major problem other than intense intestinal discomfort, but if children confuse them for grapes and eat a lot of them there could be severe consequences. The oxalic acid crystals are sharp enough to perforate mucous membranes, and so severe internal bleeding can result after ingesting significant amounts. As with many toxic plants, a hot-water infusion made from the fruits (most of the time, but sometimes also the leaves) of this plant were used by Native North Americans as a treatment for heart conditions, diarrhea, prostate disease (or other diseases or disorders that might cause difficulty or painful urination), and joint swelling due to (most often) rheumatoid arthritis. No clinical trials have ever been set up to determine if the plant can be effective against any of these conditions, but the possibility is there.

Aside from its traditional medicinal use, this plant is becoming more and more popular as a garden ornamental species. It is very successful in full sun, and does a great job of climbing up buildings to act as insulation from the sun (and so is especially successful on south-facing walls). Fortunately for homeowners using this plant in landscaping, it (like Boston Ivy but unlike English Ivy) produces sticky knobs to attach itself to a substrate (like your brick wall on your house). English Ivy, that nasty little vine, produces penetrating roots that worm their way right into the mortar between the bricks in order to anchor itself. This means that Virginia creeper is a much less destructive plant to grow on the side of your house. There's always a catch to all things that sound to good to be true, isn't there?! The catch for this plant is that removing adhesive knobs can still be quite a labour-intensive process because pulling the live plant from the wall will still rip out small pieces of brick and mortar along with the adhesive knobs. If, however, you cut the plant at the base (either at ground-level for complete removal or just a branch here and there for trimming purposes) and let the plant wither and die on the house, it can be removed once brown with no damage at all (the adhesive knobs have to be alive to be adhesive!). It's like magic! The only downside is that Virginia creeper vines do lose their leaves in the fall (but not before turning a BRILLIANT shade of red first), so you don't get the same kind of winter insulation as you do with English ivy. But for the cost of having to re-brick the side of your house...I think the substitution is worth it!

Wine? Wine not!

Species name: Vitis riparia

Common name: riverbank grape

Location: Western University campus

The riverbank grape is one of our great native vine species (the other major native eastern North American species to be featured in the next blog, Virginia creeper). It is a very vigorous grower, capable of growing up to the top of a riparian forest tree canopy (not nearly as tall as a "normal" tree canopy of a forest, since trees that live in riparian, or riverbank, areas don't tend to be able to grow as tall). In the southern areas of its native range it can be a real pest species, but here in Ontario other native species are pretty good at competing with it. Some trees have a harder time than others, but non-native species have an especially difficult time with the smothering tendencies this species sometimes has. That being said, as soon as it is transplanted, either naturally via bird poop (the most common animal vector) or "artificially" via human transplantation, into an area of lowland or upland forest the forest canopy can really suffer as a result. It is remarkably good at smothering new saplings before they have a chance to grow tall enough to escape it, and some forests are so thick with grape vines they're impassable. A great example of a species that grows well in harmony with other species in its native habitat, but can become a real pest, even in its native range, if introduced beyond those limits.

The riverbank grape has a bit of a bad rap in Ontario and the northeastern United States, but that perception seems to be changing a bit. In the 1940s and 1950s, the US government (the Canadian government quickly followed suit) decided that riverbank grape vines were a forest pest and that this species should be eradicated. There had been a lot of accidental introductions of this species into areas important in the logging and lumber trade, and if you're allowing a vine to smother your profits you're not a very good businessperson! So instead of just local eradication programs, these programs were carried out across the United States and into Ontario and Quebec, and whenever a riverbank grape vine was seen in a forest (either riparian area or otherwise) it was sprayed with very toxic herbicides. This was very effective at killing the vines, but also equally effective in killing all of the surrounding vegetation and poisoning the soil (both for soil microbes, very important in forest health, but also making it inhospitable to new seedlings). Unfortunately, it was far too late before anyone realized what was happening, so you still find "dead zones" where mature trees escaped the soil poisoning by having a root system vast enough to support itself with un-poisoned soil, but the understory species are completely missing. I have a rather personal connection to riverbank grape, because one of the species of fungi that I study for my PhD grows exclusively on grape vine in North America. Unfortunately, there's a catch (as there always seems to be with rules regarding where fungi are most likely to be found): it only grows on mature, living or dead grape vine. This means that any suitable habitat that might have been in forest ecosystems in the 1800s when a lot of the work was being done on the fungal flora of North America no longer exists for this species. For this reason, it was collected three times in the 1880s by great, now long-dead, mycologists only to never be recorded ever again. Have these species gone extinct because of our destruction of their host species? No one, including myself, knows that for sure. Since the 1930s there has been a lack of concerted effort to document the diversity of forest species, only re-invigorated in the early 2000s. What I can say is that for the last 6 years whenever I'm in a forest where there's grape vine I look for it...and haven't found it yet. Perhaps I'm not looking in the right spot, or perhaps it doesn't exist anymore. I'll let you know in 20 years when I either find it or give up looking. ;) This idea of "disappearing species" is not unique in mycology; there are also a lot of plant species that were discovered during the times of the Great World Explorers (as I like to call them) that have never been found again. Part of the problem stems from the lack of location data for the collections--how do I know where "Aunt Edna's House, near the south greenhouse but past the wood pile, 5 minutes from the beach" is?! Sure, maybe EVERYONE in 1872 knew where Aunt Edna's house was...but it's long gone by now. You don't realize just how useful GPS coordinates are until you have to figure out something like that!

Anyway, back on topic...

Riverbank grape fruits are reportedly edible, and were also reportedly an important food source in the summer for early settlers in North America. Now, I'm guessing that tastes have progressed a bit since those times, or perhaps they were much less picky eaters than we are now (or maybe a bit of both). Have you ever tried a grape from a wild grape vine? They are TERRIBLE. I wasn't expecting a sweet grape when I tried one, but holy jeez. This was...terrible. That's the only way I can describe it. It was gooey and had the most awful texture on the planet (almost like jello on the inside), plus one of the most sour fruits I've ever had in my life (puts the Cornelian cherry to shame, which you can read all about HERE, and I often eat lemons for fun...so that tells you something about my tolerance for "sour"). My friend Tanya convinced me to try one when we were out geocaching one afternoon, and I could taste the lingering "lip-puckering sour" in my mouth for hours. That's the last time I ever listen to Tanya. Ha.

Sure, the grapes don't taste that great and the plant isn't all that much to look at (although, I personally really love the shape of their leaves and the cute little curving tendrils that are most visible during the winter and early spring), riverbank grape is one of the single most important "novelty agriculture species" that we have in North America. I call them an agricultural novelty not because their use is new, but because the product we get from them is certainly not necessary for everyday life (some people might argue with me on that one; we'll agree to disagree) nor has it ever been. Wild grape vines are VERY tolerant to winter conditions in North America, which can be incredibly harsh, especially in the ground. Traditional wine grape vines, of the species Vitis vinifera, don't have a very cold hardy root system, and are prone to freezing damage in northern climates. For this reason, riverbank grape rootstock is often grafted onto a wine grape scion (or "top") for commercial grape production for the wine industry. Once grapevine producers were experts in the creation of natural hybrids, they started experimenting with different varieties of V. vinifera as well as V. riparia to make more cold-tolerant grape vines, but with the same commercial qualities of traditional wine grapes. Another major benefit is that the resulting hybrid is much more resistant to common fungal diseases encountered on grape vines. Eventually what was obtained were varieties that were genetically 50-80% wine grapes, and 20-50% riverbank grape. Baco Noir, Marchel Foch (sometimes called Marechal Foch) and Frontenac grapes are all hybrids between these two species, and produce some of the best wine in the world. Isn't it amazing what a little traditional plant breeding can do?! Cheers to grapes.

Traditional uses by Aboriginal North Americans are also numerous; they are used as a food (although, I'm guessing in small numbers), to make jellies and jams, and to produce a type of traditional North American wine. From what I understand, this wine is really unpleasant when compared to wine from a "real" winery, but it really packs a punch: it has 2-3 times the alcohol content of a traditional wine. Maybe it's alcoholic enough you don't realize how terrible it is! Not commercially sold, but every so often you might be able to find some courtesy of a backyard brewer. Let me know how it is, if you get a chance to try it.

Burr it's cold!

Species name: Arctium sp. (probably Arctium lappa)

Common name: burdock (probably greater burdock)

Location: Western University Campus, London, Ontario

I decided to start this year off with a bang, or a burr if you will, using a blog post with lots of pretty pictures. :) Who doesn't love pretty pictures?! The burdock plant is pretty well-known in North America where it was introduced from Europe, the Middle East and Asia (pretty much every area in the Northern Hemisphere EXCEPT North America). Across its native and introduced range it has the potential to become quite invasive, as it thrives in disturbed, nitrogen-rich soils. This makes it an especially-potent agricultural weed species. In most cases, however, when burdock seeds enter an area (especially a landscaped garden like you'd find around a home) a couple might develop into plants but spreading is rare. While I took these pictures on campus, there is also a very small colony (two plants) growing in my back yard. Since they're out of the way, I've left them there and hoped that the "keeper of the garden" (aka my dad) doesn't find them ugly enough to remove. To me, they're pretty in their own way. I wouldn't want lots of them (since they're irritating in their own way, too!), but one or two is just fine.

I had a bit of trouble getting this plant down to the species level because I neglected to make notes of (or take pictures of) the distinguishing characteristics between the greater burdock and the lesser burdock. One of the main ways to tell them apart is by looking at the base of the flower, or what we would call the "burr." If the flower is on a stalk, it's the greater burdock, and if the flower is directly attached to the branch (or is on a very short stalk), it's the lesser burdock. Since I think these pictures are just great, I'm going to go with the greater burdock :) Next time since I know what I'm looking for I'll make sure I photograph the stalks (or lack thereof) that the flowers are sitting on so I can make sure my identification is correct! There is one more burdock species in Ontario (also a non-native species) called the woolly burdock, but this one is easily distinguished from the other two. It has a bract at the bottom of each leaf that has very fine spike-like hairs on it. Neither of the other two species we have here show this characteristic. Aside from the flowers on (or not on) stalks, the other way to tell the lesser and greater burdock apart is based on size; the greater burdock is almost twice the size at maturity, and can have a taproot up to three feet long. For a plant that's only about three times bigger than that (but many in Canada don't reach that size), that's an enormous root! For all three species there are separate male and female flowers within the flower head. You can tell the difference by looking for the stigmas (the female bits of the flowers); they are pointed out with the bright pink arrow in the picture third from the bottom. Usually the stigmas only develop after the stamens of the male flowers have released their pollen; this way the plant can make sure the stigmas will catch pollen, but it won't be its own pollen; this is one of the mechanisms most often used to ensure cross-pollination between individual plants, rather than the pollen of an inflorescence landing on the stigma from that same inflorescence.

The burdock plant is pretty awesome for two reasons. First, if you look closely at the last picture you'll see that the burrs open up at the top to release the seeds, which are like miniature dandelion seeds, fluffy bit and all. The actual burr is covered in hairs with a hook at the end, and the tip of the hook has a very sharp point. This makes the burr feel "sticky" when you put it on your skin or when you grab at one, even though there's actually no sticky substance on the hairs. If you own a dog and have ever walked it through a forest or a field, I'm sure you're well aware of the nightmare that is "de-burring" a dog. The type of hair that covers dogs is just made for burrs using those hooked hairs to latch on for seed dispersal. Eventually, the dog will roll around on the ground, breaking open the burr and releasing the seeds (or the seeds will just gradually fall out of the hole in the burr, being released as the dog walks). Burrs certainly didn't co-evolve with dogs, but more like woolly mammoths, bears, moose, and other animals characteristic of northern climates (dogs just happen to be what is most likely to come by now). In the 1940s, a very smart man by the name of George de Mestral was getting very annoyed at having to pick burrs off of his dog after taking him for walks. After a few years of this he decided to clip some out of the dog fur instead of pulling them off so he could look at how the burrs attach to the dog hair. He realized he could exploit this technology; by collecting his dog's hair that comes off in brushes and the hairs of the burr, he could glue one to one side of two things he wanted to join, and glue the other to the other side. Once they come in contact, they would be permanently joined until they were carefully separated. Obviously no one wants dog hair and burrdock burrs glued to their clothing, but making synthetic versions of both of these gave us one of the most important inventions in the 20th century: velcro. Parents will small children: Mr. de Mestral I'm sure says "you're welcome!"

The other awesome part about this plant is that the giant taproot forming at the base of the plant is actually edible. Back in the Middle Ages in Europe this plant was actually one of many staple food crops, and was eaten and cultivated across Europe. Since then it has largely been abandoned as a source of food, but every so often you find it popping up in local cuisine. In Japan, for example, greater burdock roots are still peeled and cooked in a traditional stir-fry dish called kinpira gobo ("kinpira" for carrot, "gobo" for burdock). I didn't realize what I was eating at the time, but I had this dish when I was in Japan. It's pretty good! Not all that much flavour, but certainly not undesirable. I would definitely have it again now that I know what I'm eating.

Greater burdock roots also have a long history of being used in Traditional Chinese Medicine to treat blood and kidney diseases. Depending on what part of the plant is consumed (not the roots), it can be a pretty powerful diuretic, so if you don't know what you're doing, don't cook it. Other medicinal uses have not been established to be effective or ineffective, but there is some anecdotal evidence to suggest that some uses may be beneficial. First, the Ojibwa people have used burdock roots in a tea-like preparation to treat cancer (no evidence this is effective) and the leaves in a maceration with oils to treat baldness (also no evidence this is effective, but it does clean hair nicely if rinsed well). The Chinese also crush the seeds and consume the powder to treat flu, nausea and colds, and there is some evidence that this might be effective. The seeds contain chemicals called arctigenin, arctiin and aglycone, which have been shown in mice to be effective as: anti-viral treatments (especially against influenza A), anti-inflammatory agents (especially in the small intestine, but also to some degree in swollen joints as a result of arthritis), and anti-cancer treatments (extracts from the seeds, and pulverized seeds themselves, have been shown to kill tumour cells growing on artificial nutrient medium in petri dishes; this has never been tested in a living body of any type of animal). You never know; in a few decades burdock extract might be one of our new "wonder drugs"!

I'm back at blogging, and thanks for sticking through my absence! I really appreciate all of your continued support in my endeavours to spread the word that plants are awesome. Happy New Year to those that celebrate at this time of year!

The maple of Black Friday

Species name: Acer nigrum

Common name: black maple

Location: Western University campus

What better way to celebrate the phenomenon that is Black Friday with a...black maple! You bet I've been holding off on this blog for weeks! For those of you not from the United States or Canada and who are unfamiliar with this "Black Friday thing," here's a brief run-down. Traditionally in Canada the day after Christmas is called Boxing Day. Truly, I have no idea what the history of Boxing Day is, but now it has morphed into the National Day of Shopping. Crazy people (like me) get up at 6 am in order to make it to the mall as soon as it opens, and every store has some kind of crazy sale. Boxing Day is one of my favourite days of the year since I love shopping, but I absolutely refuse to pay full-price for an item. Not to be outdone, the United States has Black Friday. Since Christmas isn't actually that big of a deal in the US (trust me, I'm surprised, too), Thanksgiving is their biggest national holiday (aside from possibly Independence Day in some areas), and it weirdly occurs on a Thursday. In order to "bridge the gap" between Thanksgiving and the weekend, the phenomenon known as Black Friday has evolved. That is the day that Americans get up ridiculously early and go shopping. And let me tell you: Black Friday deals in some stores are ridiculous. While I've never been to the States on a Black Friday (and never intend to go; the day is notorious for people getting trampled to death in order to get to the good deals first), I've heard some great stories of people scoring big-screen TVs for $32, or a brand new iPhone 5C for $49 with no contract. That's crazy! I have no idea whether Boxing Day or Black Friday came first, but I like to think Boxing Day did. Because I'm Canadian, and all good things are Canadian before Americans steal our ideas. Like basketball. And hockey.

Back to plants! The black maple is actually a "species" under furious debate amongst botanists, and the crowd is currently split about its species status. There are some botanists (that I like to think are in the majority, but I'm honestly not sure) that say the black maple is a good species and deserves its own Latin name. There's another group, however, that is absolutely convinced that it's merely a subspecies of the sugar maple, and should actually be called Acer saccharum subsp. nigrum. Unfortunately, should this prove to be the case, the black maple would lose all designation as a species and no longer be protected by any kind of Species At Risk legislation across all of North America, where it has its native range. To me, this would be tragic since I happen to really like black maples. But I do see where "the other side" is coming from: black maples and sugar maples readily hybridize with each other, their wood can be used for the exact same purposes in the lumber trade because they have the same grain qualities and the same chemical makeup (the same amount of lignin and cellulose, with the same type of ring structure), they can both be used to produce maple syrup (although, black maples much less so than sugar maples), and they have very similar maple key characteristics. The most notable difference is the shape of the leaves; the black maple leaf is much more rounded at the bottom than the sugar maple (which is nearly flat), the black maple leaf has only three main lobes with no minor lobes (the sugar maple leaf has three main lobes and two much smaller lobes at the base near the petiole), and the leaves of the black maple "droop" like they're always slightly dehydrated (while sugar maple leaves are flat and not droopy at all). In fact, the slightly floppy quality to the leaves is the reason why most black maples are accidentally massacred on residential properties. Because they always look like they're drought-stressed and need water, people who don't know that's what black maples look like normally drown them to death. The poor trees! And I will admit, until a few months ago I would have been in the "drowning the tree" boat. I always thought this poor tree needed some water (and since it is in the middle of an island in a huge parking lot, not getting much water is a very real possibility) and so likely would have drowned it, too, had I not been told differently. Now we all know. :)

So what are black maples good for, aside from maple syrup? Well, a lot if you ask the Ojibwa people. Not only did they boil the sap of the black maple to concentrate the sugars to use as a sweetener in cooking, but they also boiled the bark and drank the resulting liquid to treat diarrhea and to act as a diuretic. Neither of these uses have been evaluated in clinical trials. The branches of this tree can also be very straight, and so made good wood for arrows and were the preferred source for "arrow wood". The wood of the black maple is also easily carved, especially when young, and so was sometimes carved into elaborate shapes for ornamental pieces and for kitchen items like spoons and bowls.

If you went out to brave the crowds today, hopefully you managed to pick up something you liked and got a great deal!

The Buckeye Battle Cry revisited

Species name: Aesculus glabra

Common name: Ohio buckeye

Location: Western University campus

I know I've written a blog about the Ohio buckeye before (you can read my previous blog post HERE), but I wanted to blog about it again but with better pictures. And you know what? I'm allowed, because it's my blog :) So there!

The Ohio buckeye is a native species (well, marginally native. Definitely native to the northeastern United States; debatable whether or not it's native to southwestern Ontario) that does very well in full sun to partial shade. It's a medium-to-small tree in this part of Ontario because it's growing in a suboptimal part of its range, but further south into Ohio and Kentucky it can be a medium sized tree (up to 25 meters tall). The roots of these trees can tolerate intense rain and can tolerate temporary flooding, but do best in well-drained soil. There are some clear disadvantages to growing the Ohio buckeye as an ornamental species, and the first should be obvious: the fruit produced. If you're trying to increase the squirrel population, growing buckeyes in your yard is one of the best things you could possibly do. You don't want to come between a hungry squirrel and a buckeye tree! If, however, you have a lawnmower that you appreciate using and not replacing the blade every time you cut the lawn, you might want to reconsider this species. The fruits produced are enormous (in ideal conditions, some are almost the size of baseballs!), and when they split open they release one to three seeds. The seeds are large, hard, and really hurt when they hit you in the head. They do make fantastic ornaments, and are really stunning in flower arrangements. You can also collect the seeds and dry them to make beads, as is popular to do at Ohio State University. I can imagine they would be good for building neck muscles because they're so heavy, although I'm not sure why you would want to build your neck muscles.

Something that is often believed about the buckeye is that it produces inhibitory chemicals from the roots to prevent the growth of other species (called allelopathy) like in Norway maples and, to some extent, black walnuts. Fortunately, this isn't the case. To date there's no evidence that buckeyes produce allelopathic chemicals from their roots. Unfortunately, that doesn't mean that anything will grow under them! The canopy cover of buckeyes is just so dense that even shade-tolerant grass has a really hard time growing under buckeye trees. The best thing to plant under them would be highly shade tolerant ground cover, but even that might not do it in the long run. But the trade-off? Look at the trees! They're spectacular in their own right. They also turn bright orange early in the fall (late summer, really), long before other species start to change colour. And who doesn't love a bright orange tree in a sea of green?!

So how did the buckeye get to be so closely associated with Ohio? Well, there's the obvious reason that Ohio is the middle of the range for the buckeye, but that in its own right rarely causes a plant to be so ingrained in a state's culture. The story goes that Colonel Ebenezer Sproat arrived in what is now the United States in 1788 to command the Northwest Territory. Once he landed, the Indigenous peoples called Colonel Sproat "Hetuck" because they were so greatly impressed by him; he showed the native people immense respect and communicated with them instead of at them (as so many others did, and, to some extent, continue to do). To Indigenous North Americans, hetuck means the "eye of the buck" which shows power, respect and knowledge. I guess being called the eye of the buck is a great honour! He eventually became known as the "Big Buckeye" and all of the citizens under his control were his buckeyes. Eventually it became a term associated with all of those from and living in Ohio. The common name of the buckeye also stems from the fact that the seeds (or the "nuts") of the tree also resemble the eyes of deer. I bet you'll never look at a buckeye seed the same way again!

Should you decide to try to grow your own buckeye, make sure you find some nice plump seeds before they fall out of the fruit. They are very, very sensitive to drying and won't germinate if the seeds dry out too much. The best way to get around this is to find a fruit that has split open but has not yet dropped the seeds and take them home and put right in the ground. They won't germinate until the next spring, but there's usually a pretty good success rate. Plant a few, then pull all but a couple out of the ground in the summer. At the end of the next summer, choose your favourite and pull all of them but that one out (or leave a bunch! Nothing wrong with wanting a few buckeyes). Just keep in mind that you can't grow these indoors before transplanting (at least, not easily); they do require a period of exposure to extreme cold during the winter in order to germinate properly in the spring. Oh, and invest in a good rake ;)

The dogwood with sandpaper leaves

Species name: Cornus drummondii

Common name: roughleaved dogwood

Location: Western University campus

The roughleaved dogwood is a relatively rare species native to the midwestern plains in the United States. It's nearly native to Ontario, but stops just short at the border in Michigan (some would argue it's native to the southernmost areas near Windsor and Point Pelee in Ontario but no evidence suggests it exists there as a wild species). It is an understory species in the forest, but because it prefers full sun it is most likely to be found on forest edges. Because of the ever decreasing amounts of forest cover, this species is more and more difficult to find.

Unfortunately, I managed to catch this small tree (or large shrub) in what is probably the least exciting portion of its yearly cycle. In the spring and into the early summer it produces dainty white flowers on the bright red inflorescence branches. These flowers are pollinated, then mature into green fruits in the late summer (as illustrated above) and turn white in the fall. These white fruits are important food sources for many native species, including about 20 species of bird, and other small mammals like chipmunks, voles and mice (squirrels rarely eat the berries since they prefer hard-shelled nuts like acorns, but if they're hungry they'll eat just about anything). There are also many insect species that lay their eggs on the branches and leaves of this plant and the larvae ("caterpillars") eat the leaves before moulting into their mature forms. Because of the dense leaf cover and the dense branching growth, this species makes an ideal tree or shrub species for birds to seek shelter. It is relatively fast-growing and then growth is nearly halted when it reaches 4-6 feet in diameter, so makes an ideal candidate for a shrub hedge or other type of visual or noise screen.

Unlike its close relative the red osier dogwood (which you can read all about HERE), this small tree doesn't have much winter interest. The bright red inflorescence stalks that hold onto the white berries turn brown and fall off the tree when the leaves are shed in the fall, and they are produced anew in the spring. The rest of the branches on the tree are a typical brown, unlike the red osier dogwood's bright red bark. This doesn't mean you shouldn't plant one! Think about how happy you'd make some birds if you had one in your back yard :) Aside from the ecological benefit to birds and insects, this tree is incredibly resistant to just about every type of disease out there. It resists nearly all types of fungal infections, there are no known insect pests, and rabbits aren't big fans of eating the bark of this species during the winter (unlike hemlocks. The poor trees in our back yard get stripped of their bark during bad winters!).

The roughleaved dogwood is named that because of the very coarse hairs produced on the undersides of the leaves (the terminal branchlets are also covered in this coarse hair, as are the petioles of each leaf). Because the trichomes are short and fat, they give a very rough texture to the underside of the leaf (almost like sandpaper), unlike the long thin trichomes of many leaves that make them soft and pleasant to touch.