Showing posts with label Chamerion angustifolium. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chamerion angustifolium. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Fecund Fireweed’s Far-flung Seeds

0.065-0.069, 9, 40, 81, 80,000 and 8,980,000—just a few of fireweed’s impressive numbers.

Last week I visited the railroad garden west of my house, and collected stems in flower and fruit to take home for portraits. Surprise! When I opened the plastic bag just twenty minutes later, I found that what had been this:
had become this (with white campion):
Fireweed capsules had split open and were releasing seeds. Apparently they were ready to send their offspring out into the world. They just needed a reason—in this case, being cutoff from moisture and nutrients.
Fireweed, Chamerion angustifolium. Long narrow structures below flowers are seed-filled capsules.
Fireweed capsule fully dehisced and empty of seeds.
From now well into fall, many thousands of fireweed seeds will be passing by, high overhead. When it’s windy, they fly. When it’s calm, they hang almost suspended. The feather-light seeds descend only when there’s no air movement whatsoever, slowly drifting down at about 0.065-0.069 m/hour. From 100 m up, it takes 25 minutes to reach the ground (exceptions include downdrafts and rainfall).

No wonder fireweed is so widespread. It’s circumboreal, native to much of the Northern Hemisphere, which explains why it has so many names. In Russia it’s called Ivan Chay (chai), in parts of Canada great willowherb, and in Britain rosebay willowherb. There was a time when Brits called it bombweed because it quickly colonized bomb craters during World War II. Somewhere in the world, fireweed is known as blooming sally—a name often mentioned but never explained (UPDATE: see PtP's Comment at end of post). In 1753, Karl Linnaeus gave it the scientific name Epilobium angustifolium, but fireweed is enough different from other willowherbs (Epilobium) that the Czech botanist Josef Holub moved it to the genus Chamerion in 1972. Chamerion means low Nerion (Nerion is oleander in the US; source). angustifolium means narrow leaf.

UPDATE: for additional information on nomenclature, common names, and tea, see Pat the Plant's very interesting Comment at the end of the post.
Epilobium angustifolium, today’s Chamerion angustifolium. From Flora von Deutschland, Österreich und der Schweiz; 1885; Otto Wilhelm Thomé (source).
Veins in fireweed leaves do not end at the leaf margin but rather join up again to form reticulate venation. Plants can be identified without flowers because of this distinctive pattern.
Fireweed grows profusely where vegetation has been removed, exposing bare unshaded soil. It’s best known as a fire follower but other disturbances will do, such as logging, bulldozing, gardens and volcanos. Often it’s the most common herbaceous species post-disturbance, being extremely good at reproduction, dispersal and establishment.
Fireweed is flourishing where railroad tracks were torn up near my house; more here.
Like many pioneering plants, fireweed is fecund. A single plant may produce 80,000 seeds per year. They’re tiny and light—only one mm long and almost paper thin, perfect for long distance travel. Their long silky hairs carry them away with the slightest breeze.
Seeds are hard to photograph. They move with the slightest disturbance, including sighs of frustration.
The adaptations of fireweed's seeds are highly effective, as has been shown many times. In Saskatchewan, Archibold and assistants placed seed traps (germination trays filled with potting soil) on a burned site in April, and retrieved them the next year. Of the seeds that had germinated, 63% were from fireweed. Extrapolating from their seed traps, they estimated there were 8.98 million fireweed seeds per ha (about 22 million per acre).

One year after Mount St. Helens erupted, Dale and assistants trapped wind-borne seeds on a debris flow; 81% were from fireweed. In northern Quebec, analysis of seed rain (seeds caught falling from the sky, usually with sticky traps) showed that fireweed contributes 40 seeds per sq m (3.7 seeds/sq ft; source).
Fireweed capsules in various stages of dehiscence.
Solbreck and Andersson took a different approach. They found a television tower with large suction traps (for flying insects) in a forest clearing with abundant fireweed. In September, they counted fireweed seeds trapped at different heights. There were thousands, even as high as 100 m (only a few of the seeds were from other plants). Given their near weightlessness, these high travelers “are likely to stay suspended in the air for long periods during sunny summer days with updrafts. These seeds will undoubtedly be carried long distances by the wind. … We suggest that seed dispersal distances of the order of 100-300 km are quite common …”

Most seeds lucky enough to fall on a suitable site germinate quickly—100% germination in ten days has been documented in some studies. Fireweed seeds are non-dormant and can germinate over a wide range of temperatures, though they do best when it’s warm, sunny and humid. Fireweed does not contribute to long-term seed banks; after 18 to 24 months, most seeds are no longer viable. This is a true opportunist!

But fireweed doesn’t reproduce just by seed. In fact, vegetative reproduction maybe be more common. Growth is especially profuse when disturbance cuts underground rhizomes, stimulating sprouting—as many as 9 sprouts per meter of rhizome.
Rhizomes of Chamerion angustifolium, by Rasbak.

What’s behind the recent appearance of fireweed plants on the old railroad bed near my house? Are they sprouts from rhizomes that laid dormant for years, and then responded to the bulldozer that tore up the railroad tracks and cleared out the thistles and tumbleweeds? Or did they grow from seed? Without digging, I’ll never know, but I don’t want to disturb them. In fact, I hope they continue to flourish and spread!
Maybe I'll sow these myself.

Sources

Archibold, OW. 1980. Seed input into a postfire forest site in northern Saskatchewan. Canadian Journal of Forest Research 10:129-134.

Dale, VH. 1989. Wind dispersed seeds and plant recovery on the Mount St. Helens debris avalanche. Canadian Journal of Botany 67:1434-1441.

Pavek, DS. Chamerion angustifolium. In: Fire Effects Information System [Online]. USDA Forest Service, Rocky Mountain Research Station, Fire Sciences Laboratory (Producer). Accessed 2016, July 31. http://www.fs.fed.us/database/feis/plants/forb/chaang/all.html 

Romme, WH, Bohland, L, Persichetty, C, and Caruso, T. 1995. Germination ecology of some common forest herbs in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming, USA. Arctic and Alpine Research 27:407-412. PDF

Solbreck, C, and Andersson, D. 1987. Vertical distribution of fireweed, Epilobium augustifolium, seeds in the air. Canadian Journal of Botany 65: 2177-2178.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

Beauty amid Destruction

Year #25, dog #3.
For 25 years we’ve walked the dirt road to the river—a morning ritual. It runs along railroad tracks that serviced the old packing sheds. For the last two years, the tracks have been disappearing, bit by bit (I suspect this is someone’s side job). Now the rails are gone, and ties lie in heaps. Much of the thistle–tumbleweed vegetation has been bulldozed away.

With bare soil, more sunshine (less thistle), and lots of late spring and summer moisture, the old track bed has become a garden of pioneering plants. In our yards we call them “weeds” but here they are beauties—high-impact beauties in fact, given the surrounding destruction and decay.
Evening primroses are well-represented. True to their name, the flowers open in the evening, stay open for our morning walks, and then close in the heat of midday. Most of our species are white-flowered and moth-pollinated, hence their nocturnal habits. But there are a few yellow-flowered ones too.

I found one hairy evening primrose, Oenothera villosa. It's a common colonizer of open areas along the river, about a quarter of a mile away, and I bet there will be more here soon. The yellow flowers appear to open in the evening and close in the heat of midday, so who are its pollinators if not moths? Or do moths notice yellow flowers? So much to learn.
Nuttall’s evening primrose, O. nuttallii, is common along the dirt road. Now it's invading the newly-bare thistle-free soil. It grows to be almost shrub-like, but being a true forb, it dies back each year. The flowers are about 5 cm across, showy by local standards.
Crownleaf evening primrose, O. coronopifolia, is small perennial herb with flowers about 2.5 cm across. The lobed leaves are said to be suggestive of crowns. UPDATE: For alternative explanations, see Pat the Plant's Comment and my Reply below.
Crown-like leaves?
Against the wall stood another flower of the night—white campion, Silene latifolia. Wikipedia notes “it is also named the Grave Flower or Flower of the Dead in parts of England as they are seen often growing on gravesites and around tombstones.” White campion is dioecious, with male and female flowers on separate plants. This one's a guy—just stamens in the flowers.
Foxtail barley is common in the Laramie Basin, often on slightly saline soils. The bulldozer brought sun into its life, and now it’s flourishing, helped by runoff from the buildling.
Finally, the surprises. Two are plants of moist habitat—surviving here due to runoff. Based on size, they must have been here for awhile. I guess I didn’t notice them behind the tumbleweeds.
Narrowleaf cottonwood, Populus angustifolia. Its parents probably are among the trees along the river.
Meadow foxtail, Alopecurus arundinaceaus, a non-native that usually grows in wet meadows.
The biggest surprise was fireweed, Chamerion angustifolium (other names include rosebay willowherb and blooming sally). It’s a famous fire-follower, growing luxuriously where fire has burned off both the tree canopy and ground cover, exposing bare dirt in full sunshine. But it also thrives on other kinds of disturbed sites.
I know fireweed well, from montane habitats. Surely if it were growing next to the packing sheds all these years I would have noticed it. Did it appear this year because of a fortuitous combination of factors—moisture, shade-removal, bare ground? Had its seeds lain dormant for years? Or did they blow in recently? Or did these shoots sprout from roots or rhizomes? (or did I just overlook it?!)

I found conflicting reports—surprising for such a widespread and well-studied plant. According to the thorough and well-documented USDA Forest Service FEIS Database, fireweed does not produce long-term seed banks. However, Wikipedia says seeds remain viable in soil for many years. In any case, fireweed produces lots, and they germinate readily in bare soil over a wide range of temperatures. Even so, vegetative reproduction is more common. Following disturbance, especially if the underground rhizomes are cut, shoots sprout and grow rapidly, sometimes reaching nine feet in height!
Purple and green, my favorite color combination.
The long narrow pods are loaded with tiny seeds ... as I found out later.
I collected flowering stems from some of these beauties, and took them home for closer examination … and more surprises!

To be continued …