Lauraceae

Botanizing (and entomologizing) w/ the WGNSS Botany Group at Little Lost Creek Conservation Area

/ Ted C. MacRae / 1 Comment

March has been incredibly warm in the St. Louis area, particularly during the second half in which temperatures exceeded 80°F on seven of 12 days and 90°F twice! As one would expect, such unusually warm conditions played havoc with the first wave of early spring bloomers, particularly the conspicuously flowering understory trees that normally follow a predictable sequence of bloom beginning with Lindera benzoin (spicebush—family Lauraceae) in early to mid-March, Prunus mexicana/americana (Mexican/American plum—family Rosaceae) and Amelanchier arborea (common serviceberry—family Rosaceae) in mid- to late March, Sassafras albidum (sassafras —family Lauraceae) and Cercis canadensis (eastern redbud—family Fabaceae) in late March to early April, and — the zenith of native blooming understory trees — Cornus florida (flowering dogwood—family Cornaceae) in early to mid-April. Instead of a tightly choreographed sequence of mass blooms, we instead witnessed haphazard displays beginning earlier than normal and progressing sporadically throughout late March, with many trees knocked out of bloom by quite cold temperatures during several nights.

Nevertheless, it was not the disappointing displays of any of the above species that the group came to Little Lost Creek to see, but instead a much less commonly encountered understory tree with even less conspicuous blossoms—Dirca palustris (eastern leatherwood). One of only two Missouri representatives of the Family Thymelaeaceae, commonly called “stringbarks,” this species is found in scattered locations across the Missouri Ozarks and has been found reliably blooming in early April along Little Lost Creek.

WGNSS Botany Group at Little Lost Creek. Photo by Kathy Bildner.

To get to the low, moist areas where D. palustris grows, however, we needed to hike the two-track across the old fields and rather disturbed adjacent forests where some of the more typical spring-flowering trees were seen. Sassafras was perhaps the least impacted by the crazy spring temperature, with most trees reliably in bloom.

Sassafras albidum (sassafras). Photo by Ted MacRae.

Ever the entomologist, I couldn’t help examining some of the flowers more closely in search of insects, eventually finding the aptly-named Ischnomera ruficollis (red-necked false blister beetle—family Oedemeridae), a frequent visitor to a variety of flowers.

Photo 3. Ischnomera ruficollis (red-necked false blister beetle) on flowers of Sassafras albidum (sassafras). Photo by Ted MacRae.

The patch of American plum along the two-track that I have seen blooming profusely in years past and had hope to photograph was, disappointingly, well past bloom. However, a fine specimen that I take to be Mexican plum was found blooming profusely along a fence line nearer to the beginning of the two-track. Mexican and American plums can be difficult to distinguish, but the former usually grows as anindividual tree while the latter tends to form clonal thickets with multiple stems arising from a single parental plant.

Prunus mexicana (Mexican plum). Photo by Ted MacRae.

Serviceberry also should have been in bloom across the upland understory but was limited instead to just a few scattered trees still bearing flowers. One fine specimen, however, was found near the patch of American plum that was covered in near-perfect blossoms that simply begged to be photographed.

Amelanchier arborea (common serviceberry). Photo by Ted MacRae.

Veering into upland forests to approach the descent down into the valley, we saw some of the usual spring ephemerals and other plants that, despite not generally considered ephemerals, were nonetheless blooming quite early. Like the early-flowering trees, the spring ephemerals were impacted by the unusually warm March temperatures, with many of the species blooming far earlier than normal and now already fading despite the still-within-March date. Claytonia virginica (spring beauty—family Montiaceae, formerly Portulacaceae) is perhaps the best known ephemeral and, despite its commonness, is always a treat to see popping up in the woodlands after a long winter. The corolla color of this species is quite variable, with some being nearly white with barely perceptible venation, ranging to specimens with highly pronounced, vivid, pink venation.

Claytonia virginica (spring beauty). Photo by Ted MacRae.

Antennaria parlinii (Parlin’s pussytoes—family Asteraceae), normally an April/May bloomer, also was in flower in the relatively dry, rocky forests before the descent into the valley. Missouri populations of this species were previously known as A. plantaginifolia, means “leaves of Plantain” and indeed the basal leaves do look like those of the genus Plantago—a character that distinguishes them from the single-veined leaves of Missouri’s only other species in the genus, A. neglecta (field pussytoes).

Antennaria parlinii (Parlin’s pussytoes). Photo by Ted MacRae.

The descent into the valley is rather steep and precarious, especially for those of us who are “getting long in tooth” and needed to pick our way slowly down the rocky trail. The effort, however, was worth it as even before reaching the valley we began seeing leatherwood trees in bloom in the increasingly moist woodlands approaching the valley. The plants were, if anything, slightly past peak bloom, but not to the point that it made it difficult to find fresh examples of the instantly-recognizable flowers in clusters of 2–4 accompanying newly emerging leaves. More unusual than conspicuous with its small pendulous flowers surrounded by rusty woolly bracts, the species is distinguished from its even rarer congener, D. decipiens (upland leatherwood) by the small but discernible stalks and moist rather than upland habitat.

Dirca palustris (eastern leatherwood). Photo by Ted MacRae.

Several other botanical treasures awaited the group in the moist forests along Little Lost Creek besides leatherwood. One of these was very early blooming examples of Viola eriocarpa (smooth yellow violet—family Violaceae). This denizen of moist forests is often considered a smooth-leaved variety of V. pubescens (yellow violet) or even a synonym, and indeed the degree of “pubescentness” can be variable, making it sometimes difficult to distinguish a given plant.

Viola eriocarpa (smooth yellow violet). Photo by Kathy Bildner.

Another deep, moist, rich woods resident the group saw was the always-charming-to-see Collinsia verna (spring blue-eyed Mary—family Plantaginaceae). Unusually, this bona fide spring ephemeral is one of the few Missouri wildflowers that is truly “blue.” Equally unusual, its distribution is mainly in the Upper Midwest but in Missouri is apparently concentrated across the middle latitudes of the state.

Collinsia verna (spring blue-eyed Mary). Photo by Kathy Bildner.

[Warning: entomological geekery ahead!]

I, myself, missed these botanical finds due to my discovery immediately upon reaching the valley of a large oak tree with a dark, wet stain of flowing sap on its trunk that was hosting a variety of insects (remember; it is still March here—not normally a time to observe insects). Numerous muscoid flies, expectedly, congregated at the flow and lapped up the sap, as did a couple of brightly colored Vanessa atalanta (red admiral butterfly—family Nymphalidae). These fast-flying butterflies overwinter as adults and, thus, were ready to take advantage of the sudden warming spell. They also could have been difficult to photograph had their sweet tooth not enticed them to pose nicely on the dark, sap-saturated bark.

Vanessa atalanta (red admiral butterfly). Photo by Ted MacRae.

A closer look at the many insects congregating on the flow revealed the presence of two fireflies that proved to be Ellychnia corrusca (known as Photinus corruscus in some sources, e.g. iNaturalist) (winter firefly—family Lampyridae). Honestly, I didn’t recall ever having seen fireflies feeding on a sap flow, or for that matter any that were active in March—muggy summer nights are what I picture when I think of fireflies! The common name of this species, however, alludes to the fact that it can often be seen during warm days in winter, especially on tree trunks. Moreover, not only do adults become active in late winter, they mate at that time as well. The fact that these individuals were seen feeding on a sap flow is also unsurprising given that the species has been reported as a pest of sap buckets in the spring. There was one more surprise, however—as I was photographing the beetles, I noticed their all-dark abdomens, suggested they lack light-producing organs. This is surprisingly common among several groups of fireflies which have given up a crepuscular (i.e. active during dusk and/or dawn), luminescent lifestyle in favor of a diurnal (i.e., day active), non-luminescent existence. (We know that non- luminescent firefly species evolved from luminescent species—i.e., they used to be able to produce light and then lost the ability—rather than representing a lineage that evolved before other fireflies gained luminescent capabilities because their larvae do still posses light-producing organs.) Why did they do this? One possibility is the appearance of “femme fatale fireflies”—i.e., females of the genus Photuris that can that mimic the flash patterns of females in the genus Photinus to attract and eat Photinus males!

Ellychnia corrusca (winter firefly). Photo by Ted MacRae.

Non-luminescence as an antipredation strategy may be a good solution for femme fatales, but leading a diurnal existence still does not eliminate the risk of predation by other insects! One of the fireflies we saw on the sap flow had been attacked by a stink bug (family Pentatomidae) that came to the sap flow not for the sugary substance, but to prey on the other insects that it had attracted. For those of you who are asking “Aren’t stink bugs plant feeders?”, the answer is… mostly! While the majority of species use their piercing/sucking mouthparts to feed on developing seeds and fruits, there is one group of stinkbugs (the subfamily Asopinae) that has adapted its style of feeding to sucking the juices out of other insects rather than plants. This particular stinkbug was identified as Podisus maculiventris (spined soldier bug), and no amount of struggling by the firefly could release it from the stink bug, whose mouthparts had firmly impaled the firefly. Despite being predators, asopine stink bugs still lack chewing mouthparts and can only ingest liquid substances. This might be fine for sucking a juicy seed, but it falls short when trying to ingest another insect… unless it can digest the insect before it consumes it! This is called pre- or extra-oral digestion, whereby the stink bug injects its digestive enzyme-laden saliva into the prey and allows the enzymes to slowly liquify its innards. Once digested, the stink bug can then suck up thenutritious slurry, leaving only the shriveled external carcass of its hapless prey. Another such stink bug was seen elsewhere in the forest, this one preying on a fat, juicy caterpillar.

Podisus maculiventris (spined soldier bug) preying on Ellychnia corrusca (winter firefly). Photo by Ted MacRae.

For lunch, a smaller than usual crowd enjoyed authentic comida mexicana at Casa Tequila Cantina in nearby Warrenton.

For a complete listing of plants observed, notes, and short observations, see Little Lost Creek by Michael Laschober in the Monday Morning Botany Walks section at St. Louis Nature Students.

Participants: Brenda Adams, Gisela Baner, Prem Barton, Renee Benage, Kathy Bildner, Tina Cheung, Wayne Clark, Sally Fabbri, June Jeffries, Shari Langer, Michael Laschober, Ted MacRae, Len Meier, Burt Noll, John Oliver, David Steinmeyer, Kathy Thiele, Elaine Wolshock, Matthew Wolshock, Richard Wolshock, and Laura Yates.

©️ Ted C. MacRae 2026

BitB Bits: April 2023

/ Ted C. MacRae / 2 Comments

April 1—Better late than never. The serviceberries (Amelanchier arborea) in my neighborhood have finally started blooming, marking the beginning of a month-long period where three charismatic native trees bloom in rapid succession (redbuds will follow shortly, followed by dogwood—the king of native flowering trees in Missouri). I normally see serviceberries begin blooming in mid- to late March, but the weather of late has been mostly coldish and cloudy. First bloom on April Fools Day is about as late as I’ve ever seen for this species.

Amelanchier arborea (serviceberry) in dry-mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

April 2—Pussytoes. Native wildflowers are springing fourth now that sunshine and balmy temps have returned. Today’s first bloom is pussytoes (Antennaria parlinii), also called mouse ears. Both common names refer to the fuzzy nature of the plant—the first in reference to its flowers and the second to its leaves. This plant was, until recently known as Antennaria plantaginifolia (meaning “plantain-like leaves”), but Missouri populations were recently deemed sufficiently distinct to warrant splitting from populations further west as a separate species. I always see these plants growing in dry(ish) upland forests, but always in a more exposed situation on rocky or sloping ground where they receive more sunshine and less moisture than typically found deeper inside the forest. These plants are growing along the roadside in a small rise in my neighborhood.

Antennaria parlinii (pussytoes) in dry-mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

April 3—Mexican plum. On yesterday’s WGNSS Botany Group outing, we observed the spectacular blossoms of American plum (Prunus americana). There is, however, a very closely related species of wild plum in the state called Mexican plum (Prunus mexicana). The two species, both members of the rose family (Rosaceae), have identical blossoms and flower at exactly the same time, making them quite difficult to distinguish from each other. One character that can be used fairly reliably though is their growth habit. Mexican plum is usually more treelike, with isolated plants well separated from their nearest neighbors, while American plum tends to be shrubbier in form and forming clonal colonies with many individual plants densely occupying an area. There are several small trees along the road in my neighborhood, all of which exploded into full bloom starting yesterday, that I take to be Mexican plum owing to this individual treelike form of growth. The flowers of both species are highly attractive to pollinating insects, so I will be checking them closely over the next week while they are in bloom to see what insects I might be able to find upon them.

Prunus mexicana (Mexican plum) along edge of dry-mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

April 5—Today’s first blooms: sassafras and sugar maple. It’s been a rapid fire sequence of blooms since warm temps returned a few days ago. Today’s first blooms include two native trees—one known for its spring flowers (sassafras), and another one not (sugar maple). Sassafras (Sassafras albidum) flowers aren’t as showy as those of other spring flowering trees—their yellow-green color just can’t compete with the delicate white of serviceberry, bold white of dogwood, or vivid pink of redbud, but they offer more botanical interest than their charismatic contemporaries in that trees are usually dioecious—i.e., trees usually have either male flowers only or female flowers only rather than both (a condition known as monoecious) or, more commonly, flowers with both male and female parts (also monoecious, but with “perfect” flowers). Flowers on both male and female trees have 5–6 “tepals” (i.e., petals plus petal-like sepals); however, male flowers have nine stamens (the male part of the flower) and a non-functional style (female part), while female flowers have only six non-functional stamens (i.e., “staminodes”) around the central style.

Sassafras albidum (sassafras) in dry-mesic upland deciduous forest. Sassafras trees are usually dioecious – this is a female as indicated by its flowers with six staminodes (aborted stamens) (male trees have flowers with nine stamens) (Wildwood, Missouri).
Sassafras albidum (sassafras) in dry-mesic upland deciduous forest. Sassafras trees are usually dioecious – this is a male as indicated by its flowers with nine stamens (female trees have flowers with six staminodes, which are aborted stamens) (Wildwood, Missouri).

Sugar maple (Acer saccharum) is not usually thought of as a “flowering” tree, but like all other broadleaf plants it possesses true flowers that produce seeds for reproduction. The flowers also appear in early spring on long stalks in drooping clusters. However, unlike sassafras, sugar maple can be either monoecious or dioecious, and in the latter case the flowers can be either imperfect or perfect. In other words, any given tree may have only male flowers or only female flowers (dioecious), or it may have both male flowers and female flowers (monoecious imperfect), or it may have flowers with both male and female parts (monoecious perfect).

Acer saccharum (sugar maple) in mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

April 7—Woodland phlox. Now blooming in my woodland garden is woodland phlox (Phlox divaricata). This common spring wildflower is also sometimes called sweet William and blue phlox, but the flowers are more blue-purple than blue and can even be pink or white (plus, I don’t have the foggiest idea who “William” is!). The species epithet divaricata means “widely diverging” and refers to the more widely separated flowers compared to the usually tight clusters of flowers found in other species in the genus. There are a number of additional species in the genus in Missouri, but most of them have a restricted range in Missouri (usually restricted to parts of southern Missouri) or are found in non-woodland habitats. Phlox flowers are some of the most fragrant of our native wildflowers.

Phlox divaricata (wild blue phlox, woodland phlox, wild sweet william) in mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

April 10—Brown stink bug. The most appropriately named insect in the world!

Euschiatus sp. (brown stink bug—family Pentatomidae) in dry upland deciduous forest (Lenexa, Kansas).

April 12—Violet wood-sorrel. Today’s native wildflower is violet wood-sorrel (Oxalis violacea). Many people know this plant due to the pleasantly tart flavor of the leaves and fruits when eaten. The taste is due to the presence of oxalic acid in the plant’s tissues, although it can be toxic if consumed in large quantity due to the formation of calcium oxalate crystals in the kidneys. In fact, the genus name derives from the Greek oxys meaning “sharp,” referring to the sharply sour taste of the leaves.

Oxalis violacea (violet wood-sorrel) in dry-mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

April 12—Bridge of spiders. The Boone Bridge spiders have returned. Best I can tell they are orb weavers in the genus Larinoides (a.k.a. furrow spiders). Like most orb weavers, these spiders build a new web each night and consume it the next morning, then start all over again the next evening. Males can be distinguished by their enlarged pedipalps.

Larinoides sp. (furrow spiders—family Araneae) on web over Missouri River (Chesterfield, Missouri).

April 15—“Hey, Iris… what is the definition of dyslexia?” Not sure why she won’t answer—-maybe my iPhone is broken!

Iris sp. (cultivated iris) in woodland garden in mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

April 16—Virginia bluebells. One of my favorite native wildflowers is Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica). There is but a single specimen of this fantastic species in the woodland gardens around my home, but it blooms reliably every spring showy as ever. Virginia bluebells are normally found in bottomland forests in rich soil along creek beds, so I suspect this lone individual might have been planted by a previous owner. I thank them if they did.

Mertensia virginica (Virginia bluebells) in mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

April 18—Dogs in bloom. Our most iconic native flowering tree may well be flowering dogwood (Cornus florida). Its white showy blossoms not only grace the forests of southern Missouri, but also neighborhoods and gardens throughout the state. An interesting “factoid” about this species is that the large white “flower” is not a flower at all, but rather an inflorescence composed of many individual flowers (called “florets”) that, together, form the central yellow disc of the “flower.” The four white “petals” surrounding each inflorescence also are not true petals or even parts of flowers that can sometimes look like petals, but rather are modified leaves called “bracts” that serve the functional purpose of petals (i.e., attracting insects to the flowers for pollination). In the photo, you can see some of the individual florets are open, revealing four male stamens surrounding a central female pistil, while other florets are still closed. The florets do not actually begin opening until after the white bracts surrounding the inflorescence have opened. Thus, for a time when the bracts first open, the tree looks like it is in flower but technically is not yet. (Pull that up in dinner conversation sometime. You’re welcome.)

Cornus florida (flowering dogwood) in mesic upland deciduous forest (Wildwood, Missouri).

©️ Ted C. MacRae 2023

BitB Bits: March 2023

/ Ted C. MacRae / 2 Comments

Welcome to a new series that I’m calling “BitB Bits,” an irregular collection of random natural history observations recorded in my notes over the previous month. The individual snippets are, by themselves, too short for stand-alone posts, but I hope that readers will find their collective and chronological nature interesting and informative.

March 9. Welcome home walk. Good to be home and glad to see we didn’t miss the start of spring here. Non-native daffodils are blooming everywhere (I must admit they make an impressive display); however, we also have our first native blooming plant—spicebush (Lindera benzoin). Apparently only the male plants are blooming so far (distinguished by their flowers with stamens/anthers only but lacking a central pistil); the female plants should follow suit shortly.

Lindera benzoin (northern spicebush)

March 12. Spring on hold. Now that spicebush is in bloom, a succession of flowering trees and shrubs should follow. Fragrant sumac (Rhus aromatica) would be the next to follow, but the rain of the last few days has put it on hold. The buds are swollen and ready, however, to burst forth on the next sunny day.

Rhus aromatica (fragrant sumac).

March 13. In my happy place. I didn’t get enough hiking at St. Francois State Park to satisfy my desires, so on the way back home I decided to stop off at Victoria Glades, one of my favorite places, and walk the perimeter of the main glade. I don’t think there’s another place on earth where I feel more connected to myself as a naturalist than here. I first visited way back in 1983 – the year after I moved to St. Louis after finishing grad school, and every year for the next eight years I came here once or twice per week throughout the summer to collect insects. I essentially “grew up“ here as an entomologist! In the time since moving back to St. Louis (now 27 years ago), I have resumed my regular visits – more in some years, less in others, and each time I do I feel rejuvenated. I have instructed Madam to sprinkle my ashes here (at least some of them) – if I depart and you happen to read this, please follow up with her to make sure that she does just that!

Victoria Glades Conservation Area, Jefferson Co., Missouri

March 15. Beware the Ides of March. On this day, in 44 B.C., Julius Caesar was stabbed to death by a mob of Roman senators led by his friend Brutus. The senators believed that Julius had consolidated too much power (he had only a year earlier been named dictator for life and was implementing sweeping imperialist offensives in an effort to expand Roman territory), and that his death would lead to the restoration of the Republic. Sadly (or fortunately, depending upon your perspective), the “Ides of March” plunged Rome into centuries of civil war that ultimately led to utter collapse by the 5th century. In the final years of the empire, a series of emperors took the throne in quick succession (usually after the murder of their predecessor by the Praetorian Guard, the emperor’s personal bodyguards), each of whom plundered the state while they had the opportunity. The Roman Senate, engaged in their own corrupt practices and suffering from incompetence, was unable to curb the excesses of these emperors, leading to a waning of civic pride and loss of trust by the Roman citizenry before the final collapse.

March 17. C-c-cold! Once again, the bright sunshine was deceptive, belying how cold it really was – especially with that wind! Temps plummeted even further once the sun set, but the views around my home are still spectacular.

“The pond” on Pond Rd

March 21. Still waiting… …for native blooms to begin. Until then, here is yet another non-native early bloomer—Scilla forbesii (Forbes’ glory-of-the-snow), which invaded the woods near my home after a neighbor planted some in their woodland garden. They are not nearly the problem that some other invasives are (like bush honeysuckle or burning bush) in that they don’t smother out nearby native plants, but they can provide a pollinating “sink” that competes for insects that would otherwise be pollinating the flowers of native plants.

Scilla forbesii (Forbes’ glory-of-the-snow)

March 22. Vernal equiNOT. Spring began two days ago, yet I’m still waiting for the first appearance of any native wildflowers in the neighborhood. Until that happens, here is yet another non-native species—the thankfully noninvasive hyacinth—that my neighbor planted in their garden.

Hyacinthus sp. (hyacinth)

March 24. Spring at last, spring at last, thank God Almighty, spring at last! Finally, after sitting dormant for more than a week, the flowers of Rhus aromatica (fragrant sumac) have opened—in my opinion the true opening salvo of spring. Even so, it’s not like the weather suddenly turned spring-like, but more like the sumacs finally said F this and decided to open despite the continued dreary conditions.

Rhus aromatica (fragrant sumac).

March 25. How do snail’s eyes differ from slug’s? They don’t—they’re both eye tentacles. 🥁

Mesodon thyroidus (white-lipped globe snail)

March 26. Spring beauty. Now that spring is truly here, Claytonia virrginica (spring beauty)—the icon of spring ephemeral wildflowers—has begun popping up everywhere.

Claytonia virrginica (spring beauty)

March 26. Water spider. I saw this large fly sitting on the curb. Of course, I knew it was a crane fly—a member of the family Tipulidae, but I hear people often confuse them for a “giant mosquito.” There is no such thing, and while I admit that they do look superficially like a mosquito on steroids (they happen to be distantly related to mosquitos), they do not bite or suck blood—arguably the most important part about being a mosquito. In fact, crane flies often do not eat anything once they become adults, with some species even lacking functional mouthparts. The family name is derived from the Latin word for “water spider,” perhaps because the larvae live in water and have a ring of tentacles around their head—just guessing. Anyway, I snapped a few pics of the little guy before he feebly began flapping his wings in the chilly air and took flight, probably looking for something to not eat.

Tipula sp. (crane fly)

March 28. Back to winter (midge). A few tantalizingly warm, sunny days had my hopes up that spring was finally here, but the return of cool, wet conditions have brought back that late winter feel. Perhaps appropriately, one of the first insects I’ve seen this season is this small, mosquito-looking fly that is actually a distant relative belonging to a group known as winter midges (genus Diamesa—also called snow midges—in the family Chironomidae). As their common names imply, the adult flies are seen active primarily during winter and can even be seen walking about on snow during warm spells during the winter (a scenario mimicked by the styrofoam on which this individual was photographed). Like the crane flies that I featured a couple days ago, winter midges do not feed as adults—if only for lack of suitable food sources, while the larvae feed on organic debris in cold, running water.

Diamesa sp. (winter midge)

March 29. What’s up, buttercup? Buttercups are popping up in the “more natural“ lawns of my neighborhood. We have a number of species buttercups in Missouri – this one is Ranunculus harveyi (Harvey’s buttercup). In general, you can distinguish buttercups by their small, bright yellow flowers and bristle of anthers surrounding the central disc.

Ranunculus harveyi (Harvey’s buttercup)

March 30. Bloodroot. I made a rather exciting wildflower find in the woodlands around my house this morning—a small patch of Sanguinaria canadensis (bloodroot) with (thus far) but a single bloom. This poppy relative (family Papaveraceae) is so named because of red, fleshy root, which gets its color from alkaloids, chiefly sanguinarine, in its toxic sap. First Americans traditionally used bloodroot to treat fever, rheumatism, ulcers, ringworm, and skin infections, and it is still used to produce natural red, orange, and pink dyes. There is likely some truth to the bioactive properties of bloodroot alkaloids, as they are currently being studied for use as anti-cancer agents, particularly for the treatment of skin cancer, and as a dissolving agent for skin growths such as warts. Bloodroot is also interesting from a natural history standpoint in that the seeds have fleshy appendages that are attractive to ants. The ants collect the seeds and bring them to their nest, thus effecting dispersal of the seeds. This is an advantage for these small plants growing in wooded habitats, where wind speeds are usually too low to aid natural seed dispersal.

Sanguinaria canadensis (bloodroot)

March 31. Sweet William. I saw these plants yesterday while their blooms were still closed and wondered if they would open before March closed out. I normally think of Phlox divaricata (sweet William) as a mid-April bloomer, but clearly it can begin earlier if conditions are right (as they have been the past several days).

Phlox divaricata (sweet William)

©️ Ted C. MacRae 2023

Botanizing at Castlewood State Park

/ Ted C. MacRae / 2 Comments

Fall color was the goal of today’s Webster Groves Nature Study Society (WGNSS) Botany Group field trip, and Castlewood State Park—with its breathtaking bluff-top views over the Meramec River Valley—is as good a place to see the autumn spectacle as any. It was a well-attended group despite the cool temps, blustery winds, and hint of moisture in the air, likely helped by the park’s closer-than-usual proximity to St. Louis.

Meramec River viewed from Lone Wolf Trail Overlook.

The group decided to hike the Lone Wolf Trail, which traverses both dry forest along the bluffs and riparian forest along Kiefer Creek. We got the climbing out of the way quickly by making the long, steep ascent up to the bluffs from the parking lot—giving ample opportunity for all to make it up before exploring the bluffs. John pointed out a small tree with developing male catkins that identified it as Ostrya virginiana (hop hornbeam). The catkins will remain closed through the winter and flower next spring. Ostrya (pronounced “oh-STRY-uh”) bark is usually vertically striate (pronounced “STRY-ate”), but the bark on this tree was still relatively smooth—a “non-striate Ostrya”!

Male catkins of Ostrya virginiana (hop hornbeam).

Reaching the wooden deck overlooking the Meramec River Valley, the size of our group apparently intimidated three youngsters that were on the deck, and they quickly yielded way. The expected fall colors had not yet materialized, leading some to engage in what seems to be an annual tradition of debating whether this year’s colors are abnormally late. While at the deck and walking further along the trail from it, debates centered mostly around distinguishing the various oaks and hickories. Fallen (squirrel-clipped?) twigs from one of the large oaks exhibited large, fuzzy, quadrangular buds typical of Quercus velutina (black oak), but the leaves had usually deep sinuses. After consulting a Missouri oaks field guide, we decided they must represent Q. velutina despite the atypical leaves. Close examination of the hickories with magnification revealed distinct pubescence on the buds and petioles, suggesting Carya texana (black hickory).

The WGNSS Botany Group takes in the view from the Lone Wolf Trail Overlook.

There was little still remaining in bloom along the bluffs, and what was still in bloom was in pretty rough shape. We found two blue fall asters near each other, but a closer look revealed that they were actually two different species—Symphyotrichum turbinellum (prairie aster), distinguished by its vase-shaped involucre and branchy growth with simple leaves, and Symphyotrichum patens (creeping aster), recognizable at once by its basally clasping leaves. Another fall aster without blooms caused some debate—the recurved phyllaries of the involucre and chordate lower leaves suggested Symphyotrichum anomalum (manyray aster), but the toothed leaf edges suggested something else. Without a flower to see the color, it was suggested it could be an “anomalous anomalum.” Otherwise, only the occasional, scraggly Solidago ulmifolia (elm-leaf goldenrod) completed the list of still-barely-blooming plants along the bluffs.

Acalypha virginca (Virginia copperleaf) provides the forest floor with subtle fall color.

Descending from the bluffs along a north-facing slope and more mesic conditions provided much more color than along the bluff. Patches of Asimina triloba (pawpaw)—their large, simple leaves now vivid yellow, brightened the understory, while the ubiquitous Acer saccharum (sugar maple) lifted the yellows higher into the canopy. Only the giant oaks, mostly Q. alba (white oak) and the aforementioned Q. velutina soared above the maples, their great height no doubt a result of rich, deep soils on the north-facing slope. On the ground below, a multitude of ferns colonized the moister areas, with three species found growing side-by-side: Adiantum pedatum (northern maidenhair fern), Phegopteris hexagonoptera (broad beech fern), and Polystichum acrostichoides (Christmas fern).

Apioperdon pyriforme (pear-shaped puffball, stump puffball) on dead oak trunk base.

Fall color was not restricted to the leaves of the trees—fruits also provided dazzling points of color. Cornus florida (flowering dogwood) and Lindera benzoin (spicebush) both sported bright red berries similar enough in appearance to each other that close examination was required to distinguish those that had fallen to the ground. The former is synecious (i.e., all flowers bisexual), thus, all individuals can bear fruit. The latter, however, is dioecious (i.e., some individuals bear only male flowers, while others bear only female flowers); thus, only female trees produce the red berries. Comparing male versus female trees provided a chance to compare also the now-developing flower buds that will be among the first to open of any plant next spring. Since male plants tend to flower earlier than females, their flower buds were observed to be ever so slightly larger and further developed than those on female plants.

Lindera benzoin (spicebush) female fruits.
Lindera benzoin (spicebush) female flower buds.
Lindera benzoin (spicebush) male flower buds.

Along Kiefer Creek, flowers were limited to the occasional Campanula americana (tall bellflower) until we came upon a small area where a few late-blooming and very short-stemmed Rudbeckia hirta (black-eyed Susan) were found (regrowth?), but the remnants of green garden netting found around them indicated that they might have been planted. Definitely native in the same area, however, were a few still-flowering Eupatorium serotinum (late boneset) plants, a couple of which were found to be hosting a small, dark blue and yellow striped caterpillar. Neither of the two entomologists present knew what it was, although both had suggestions, but a little bit of sleuthing revealed them to be the larval stage of Haploa clymene (clymene moth), one of the tiger moths (subfamily Arctiinae) and known to feed on Eupatorium.

An unusually short-stemmed Rudbeckia hirta (black-eyed Susan).
Haploa clymene (clymene moth) caterpillar on Eupatorium serotinum (late boneset). Species ID based on host.

After returning to the parking lot and chatting with the group, I went back to the Eupatorium plants to take additional photographs of the Haploa clymene caterpillars with the big camera (look for those in a future post). On the way back to the car, I found a small snail actively crawling over the trail surface—its body fully stretched and antennae fully extended. I couldn’t resist putting the iPhone to the test to see if it could capture good photos of this small snail, and both the lateral and head-on shots were more than adequate. iNaturalist identifies it as a species in the genus Ventridens (dome snail), a member of the family Zonitidae (true glass snails).

Ventridens sp. (dome snail) on trail through mesic riparian deciduous forest.
Ventridens sp. (dome snail) on trail through mesic riparian deciduous forest.

©️ Ted C MacRae 2021