Dirty Buttons

Cultivating Secrets

by Lord Whimsy

“There they are,” said the smiling gentleman in the floppy-brimmed canvas hat.

I looked down and saw a bare stem topped with a cluster of tiny, ragged-tongued saffron yellow flowers. Being the plant geek I am, my heart skipped a beat; at my feet were a bunch of crested yellow orchid (Habenaria cristata), an uncommon plant I had not seen before in the Pine Barrens.

This summer I’ve spent a great deal of time scouting for plants there. The fellow naturalists I’ve met out in the bogs, roadsides and woods have been surprisingly generous with their advice on where to find especially rare plants, particularly wild orchids native to the region.

Location tips for vulnerable and rare plant species are a kind of sacred knowledge among botanists and naturalists, and aren’t shared casually. So when someone actually gives one a tip on where to find, say, dragon’s mouth orchid (Arethusa bulbosa) or Rattlesnake plantain orchid (Goodyera pubescens), it’s a flattering gesture of esteem and trust. As a novice wildlife guide for places like Bartram’s Garden, I have much to learn from those who have spent decades studying not only the biology of the Pine Barrens, but also its history and lore.

Because of its unique qualities, the Pine Barrens of Southern New Jersey is one of the only natural areas left in the mid-Atlantic states that has resisted the wholesale intrusion of invasive species. Plants here have evolved to thrive in its sandy, acidic, nutrient-poor soils. The large aquifer beneath the region fluctuates in depth, creating a surprisingly wide variety of highly specific micro-habitats. A mere six inches in elevation can bring about radical changes in habitat: I’ve seen water table seeps form in the sides of trail cuts that allow for a thin 6-inch wide, 100-foot long ribbon of carnivorous plant bog in the middle of a sandy dwarf pine forest, which is generally more like a desert habitat. In other areas I’ve found large swaths of delicate, glittering bug-snaring sundews (Drosera) happily residing in the well-worn truck-tire ruts left by hunters.

Indeed, the plants in this region seem to thrive on the invigorating effects of upheaval, including soil-ripping military ammunition and forest fire. In fact, without regular fires, grasses and sedges crowd out the flowering plants. Earlier this summer, I saw an interesting contrast between two sides of a trail, which made a sound case for the essential role of fire ecology. The recently burned side of the trail was resplendent in thousands of blue flag iris (Iris versicolor), while the side of the trail spared the recent fire was choked with invasive grasses, crowding out the rare native flora. Pine trees require regular fires to propagate. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that without fire, there would be no Pine Barrens at all.

On a recent cool summer evening I took some trusted friends to a spectacular stand of white fringed orchid (Habenaria blephariglottis). As we photographed the snow-white clusters of tiny orchids and filled our hats with blueberries from the surrounding bushes, the heady scent of Sweet Pepperbush filled the air. Over our shoulders, shore-bound cars and motorcycles sped by with indifference.

Poor bastards.