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.

The North American planetree

Species name: Platanus x acerifolia

Common name: London planetree

Location: Western University campus

As promised, this blog is about our version ("our" referring to the North American meaning of the term) of the planetree. Ironically enough, it's called the London planetree not after London, Ontario, but after London, England. A half-British, half-American name for a European species. Just when you thought common names couldn't get any more perplexing... :)

The planetree is a hybrid, which makes its native range essentially a moot point. But for the purpose of a species status diagram, it's a non-native species since the hybrid is rumoured to have been first discovered in Spain in the 1700s, but was first officially described by a Scot in 1789 as a variety of the Oriental sycamore, or Platanus orientalis. It was elevated to the status of species in 1805 by Willdenow (Platanus acerifolia), but it is now widely believed to be a hybrid of the American sycamore and the Oriental sycamore (sometimes called the Chinese sycamore or even the Oriental plane). It looks like an exact intermediary of the two species: has leaves with lobes not nearly as shallow as the American sycamore but more shallow than the Chinese sycamore, fruits in pairs instead of singly like the American sycamore (the Chinese sycamore usually has 3-6 fruits in a group), and light green inner bark unlike the white bark of the American sycamore and the much darker green bark of the Chinese sycamore. I love it when hybrids are a 50/50 blend of the parent species! It makes life so easy.

So why would you want to plant a hybrid species, when the American sycamore is a native species and looks pretty darn similar? Well, for one, the planetree is much more tolerant of urban conditions like pollution and root compaction, as well as being much more drought-tolerant and so doesn't require the riparian habitat that the American sycamore does. It also doesn't get nearly as large, which is often beneficial in cities (you don't exactly want a 5 meter in circumference tree growing between a sidewalk and a road). It is also much, much less susceptible to a fungal disease called anthracnose, which is quite common in American sycamores. So far it sounds like a pretty good compromise! Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. The planetree actually has a really nasty side to it in the spring: it is highly allergenic. The new growth of the tree produces tiny hairs on the surface of the leaves, the leaf buds, the branches, and the fruits. As the tree sheds these hairs while it matures, they blow off in the air and (usually) end up up your nose. Here, they attach to just about anything they can get ahold of, and trigger a severe immune response (this isn't just your typical pollen-allergy runny nose). Some people have even reported a skin response that looks like a second-degree burn as a result of coming into contact with many of these hairs (say, for example, grabbing onto a young branch in the spring) and the resulting rash is a hyper-immune response. This effect tends to decrease as the tree ages, but if you plant a young tree, be warned. Now that I know this, you won't catch me coming anywhere near one of these trees in the spring. I have really sensitive skin, and with my luck I'd be the one that ends up with giant pustules all over my hands and arms! The leaves are also difficult to deal with in urban settings as the leaves produced on mature branches are very thick and leathery. If left to rest where they fall, they can take years to start to decompose (unlike a few months like most leaves, which is why they make great compost starters and mulch). This means they are problematic to deal with in the fall clean-up to prepare streets for winter.

Planetrees are sometimes planted for lumber and logging purposes because of the very attractive wood (it's a light yellow wood with red flecks). In the lumber industry it's often referred to as Lacewood, and is used in wood trim or decorative panels in fine furniture.

Sycamores: nature's ghosts in the woods

Species name: Platanus occidentalis

Common name: American sycamore, American planetree

Location: Western University campus

The American sycamore (just "sycamore" from here on out since I live in North America) is native to eastern North America and has quite an extensive range throughout the Carolinian forest (from Ontario south to Texas and Georgia and everywhere in between). Depending on the environment, it can be an absolutely enormous tree, reaching heights of 40 or 50 meters (sycamores are some of the easiest trees to spot from the edge of a forest, especially during the winter, because they reach above the rest of the forest canopy) and diameters as large as 4 meters. The largest sycamore ever recorded was in 1770 recorded by the one and only George Washington near the junction of the Kanawha and Ohio rivers; he recorded in his journal the tree was approximately 14 meters in circumference! Go measure out a piece of string 14 meters in length and go wrap it around the biggest tree you can find. I bet your "incredibly large tree" will be tiny in comparison to your string! This tree, for obvious reasons since trees don't live forever, is no longer standing but it's not uncommon for a sycamore to be 6 or 7 meters in circumference if rooted in deep soil.

Sycamores are spectacular trees to see, but especially during the winter. Some people call them the "ghosts of the forest", but not just because of the colour of their bark. The new growth of the tree is almost pure white, and that scaly brown bark develops near the base of the tree as the tree ages. The white bark is actually iridescent; when the moonlight shines on the forest and sycamores sway in the breeze, it almost looks like they're glowing and sparkling in the moonlight. It's pretty cool to see, but also a bit creepy. If you've ever had nightmares about sycamores coming to life and grabbing you off a trail while you're running from ghosts through the forest, this could be why! The brain does some mysterious things... :) The sycamore is an interesting study in the use of common names assigned to species, and how they differ with geography. If you're from North America, this tree, being in the genus Platanus, is a sycamore. If, however, you're in Europe (especially in Britain) trees in the genus Platanus are called planetrees. Seems simple enough. But the plot thickens. If you are calling a tree a "sycamore" in Europe, you're actually referring to a species of maple called Acer pseudoplatanus. And if you're referring to a planetree in North America, you're referring to the hybrid Platanus x acerifolia (to be profiled in the next blog). Ugh! Oh how I wish things were simpler...

So what's so special about sycamores? Well, they're relatively unique trees in that they're riparian or riverbank species, and at the same time they have incredibly weak root systems. How do I know that, without ever having seen a root system of a sycamore? Well...look at the trees. Next time you're walking along a stream or a river with sycamores growing, look at the shape of the trees. Chances are, none of them are straight up and down. This is because when the trees were young and growing along the bank of the river, the freeze-thaw (or extreme floods of the rainy season) cycles caused the damming of ice up against the trunk of the tree. The roots weren't strong enough to support the tree upright, so it started to lean the same direction that the ice was pushing. If you look at a mature sycamore, it still has the lean of the direction of the river or stream. Extreme flooding would do the same thing; it would wash away the soil near the base of the tree causing the trunk to shift, and lean the direction of water flow. If you see a sycamore growing out all by itself in a big farm field and it leans, chances are the farmer has reclaimed the land where the river or stream used to be and put pipes to drain away the water instead. That lone sycamore is the only remnant of the forest that used to be present.

There are two main uses of sycamore trees today. The first is as an ornamental wood for a very specific purpose: in butcher blocks. Many wooden cutting boards are also made out of sycamore wood. It is strong and very durable, with very coarse grain that shows a nice pattern when stained and sealed. The coarse grain makes it very difficult to work with, but is still sometimes used in constructing furniture. The other main use of the tree is as a biofuel crop, since initially it grows very quickly and accumulates a lot of carbon. The wood of the tree can be burned in an oxygen-poor environment to make charcoal, and then burned again for fuel. Not necessarily the cleanest method of energy generation, but certainly better than burning coal (and charcoal could be burned in many of the pre-existing coal plants, providing there was enough charcoal to make it worthwhile!).

The (red) osier dogwood

Species name: Cornus sericea

Common name: red-stemmed dogwood, red osier dogwood

Location: Ontario

The red-stemmed dogwood is native to North America, from Alaska on south to Michigan and Nebraska. It thrives in very cold temperatures, and has a spectacular look during the winter due to its bright red stems. A hard prune of this shrub will keep it shrubby (it will absolutely grow into a small tree up to 4 meters tall if you leave it alone), but the flowers only appear on new growth so you likely won't get any of the pretty white berries. In cultivated areas this plant seems to get a little out of control, but this isn't indicative of how it grows in the wild; you rarely see a patch of osier dogwoods that have out-competed all other species. The shrub is shade-tolerant (one of the reasons why it is so successful as an understory shrub), but requires direct sunlight in order to have bright red branches.

One of the most attractive characters of this shrub is the underground root network that can survive under periods of intense flooding. For this reason, the osier dogwood is one of the most popular plants to plant along riverbanks to prevent erosion. The roots grow very quickly and very densely to hold the soil in, and since it's a native plant it works well with the other native flora.

The berries have a reported medical use in stopping bleeding, but that use hasn't ever been substantiated with clinical evidence. The Lakota use the inner bark of the shrub as a "traditional tobacco," mixing it with barberry leaves to improve the flavour. Other than creating smoke that can be inhaled, I'm not sure what kind of effects this traditional tobacco has; there aren't any reports of the plant being toxic, stimulating or hallucinogenic to humans in any way, so I can't imagine what kind of result inhaling the smoke would have. And if other leaves need to be added to improve taste, I can't imagine it being very pleasant, either!

Thou shalt forget me not!

Species name: Myosotis sp.

Common name: forget-me-not

Location: Nova Scotia

One of the amazing aspects of the Acadia University campus is their arboretum and medicinal plants garden. Tanya and I spent a good couple of hours wandering around a relatively small corner of campus looking at their pond system (with bog, swamp and marsh areas that they had created), their native plant area, and their medicinal plant garden. The medicinal plant section was by far my favourite because it had so many unusual plants, most of which were historically used in native medicine or once used for extracts to treat a specific disease. They even had a wormwood plant, since that was once originally used to treat malaria!

The forget-me-nots were growing around one of the ponds, which leads me to believe this could possibly be the "true" forget-me-not, or Myosotis scorpioides (native to Africa), but there aren't enough identifying features in the photo to be able to tell for sure. The genus Myosotis contains about 50 different species, and almost all of them have the potential to become invasive under the right conditions. Forget-me-nots are popular garden plants in North America, since they are such an effective ground cover, especially in shady areas (which should lead you to believe even more strongly that they're invasive!). I remember planting the "mini kind", as I used to call them when I was 4 or 5, with my mom in our garden at the old house. More than 20 years later we were still pulling the stragglers out of the garden! Since the plants themselves were so short, it leads me to believe it was probably Myosotis alpestris that we were planting, or the Alpine forget-me-not which is the state flower of Alaska. For anyone that's counting petals, this plant is indeed a dicot!

Unlike other spring wildflowers I've blogged about so far, forget-me-nots do not produce rhizomes for underground energy storage. Instead, they have a diffuse fibrous root system so they act as effective erosion-control plants by holding in the soil. This root system is also what allows them to invade riverbanks (also called the "riparian zone") and out-compete native plants. It also produces more seed at a much quicker rate than most of our native plants that grow along riverbanks, which helps contribute to their success as an invasive species.

The origins of the common name of this plant are quite diverse, but I'll share my two favourites. The one my grandma used to always tell me (she had a story for everything...true or not, they were always interesting!) was about a knight in shining armour that was walking by the river with his princess when he bent down to pick her some flowers. The weight of his armour pulled him into the river, but before he drowned he threw the flowers at the princess and yelled "forget me not!" The Freemasons also used this flower as a symbol in the 1920s to not forget the poor and desperate people in Germany. The flower still has tight ties with modern Masons, often being worn as a symbol that those that have died are gone but not forgotten.

Forget-me-nots have been used (and are actually becoming more popular) in herbal medicine around the world as a treatment for chronic nosebleeds and lung issues. I would strongly suggest against the use of this plant for these purposes, however, since they potentially contain high levels of chemicals called "hepatotoxic pyrrolizidine alkaloids," which attack the liver and cause liver failure and can cause cancer. There is conflicting evidence on whether all species of this genus contain these alkaloids, but it's always better to be safe than sorry!