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2005 Wildflower Alert!

By Pat Flanagan

What makes for a great wildflower season?  What are wildflowers anyway? Are we only talking about the fields of colorful annuals or should we count the flowering shrubs, including the cactus and yuccas? Why don’t we have great years every year?

Visitors to our desert and residents alike respond that “wildflowers” make them think of blooming fields of annuals (generally yellow).  But vibrant cactus flowers also count.  And colorful shrubs like creosote, brittlebush, and ocotillo are appreciated. Then again, who can pass up a landscape filled with spears of white flowering yuccas?

Best of all is when shrubs and annuals come together—when colors dazzle our eyes, competing scents flare our nostrils, and our ears flap, tracking the drone and chirp of eager insects and birds.  Then, with our senses alert and working, our skin, tickled by light breezes, melds us into the landscape. You think this is fanciful?  Just wait.

Brittlebush, photo by Drew Reese.

Wildflower Updates:

Watch for regular wildflower updates at www.visit29.org, or Joshua Tree National Park Visitor Center (760)367-5500,
www.nps.gov/jotr.
Maps and updates—being jointly produced by the National Park and Twentynine Palms Chamber of Commerce—will be available throughout the Morongo Basin.
Call Pat at the Chamber for information (760)367-3445
.

So how do we get the great coming together?  Water for sure is an essential ingredient, but not the only one.  Timing is also key, sometimes more important than the amount of water. Temperature also counts, both in the air and the soil. And then there are the seeds themselves, they have tricks.

An old maxim, and some solid research data, says that to get annual flower fields we need gentle soaking rains, hopefully once a month, starting in October and November and continuing through the winter.  We also need moderate temperatures as the season progresses. Unseasonably warm temperature can encourage the non-native mustards and grasses to the exclusion of natives. The ideal combination, deep soil moisture and moderate temperatures, encourages our natives to come early and stay late. We’re on track.  In addition, the yuccas flower best following freezing winter temperatures. My propane bill attests to that reality.

Annual seeds make up approximately 50% of desert plant diversity; the ability to hang out (sometimes for years) until conditions are good is an excellent survival strategy.  Experiments show there are shades of meaning to “hanging out.”  Annual wildflower seeds have chemical coatings able to distinguish between a little and a lot of rain. Using a handful of mixed wildflower seeds, a researcher showed that after soaking the seeds in water, one-half germinated. Putting the un-germinated seeds to soak again, another half germinated, and so on. Seeds kept in reserve guard against the false promise of unseasonable storms, plunging temperatures, and searing winds.

With low soil moisture annuals are short lived, flowering and producing seeds quickly. Lush years mean soil moisture is deep and flowers can take weeks to complete their cycle—fields of dune primroses grow thigh high to produce those fabulous birdcages and dandelions cover the lowlands.  Colorful shrubs and cacti can provide color into June.

 The roots of desert shrubs are variable, growing both laterally and to different depths (depending on the specie), dividing the habitat accordingly.  Deep-rooted shrubs and trees can bloom when others don’t.  Witness the faithful mesquite.  When surface moisture is low, shrubs can appear dead, no leaves or flowers, only to spring back when the storms arrive. It’s always amazing. The cactuses have shallow roots but store water in succulent flesh, rarely passing a year without blooms.

The flaming ocotillo tips remind us that pollination, creating the next generation, is the reason for flowers.  Some research indicates that ocotillo flowering tracks the northward migration of hummingbirds. So, while ocotillo leaves sprout whenever there is adequate rain, they flower in spring, tracking their pollinators, the migrating hummingbirds.

Not only do flower species have individual timing schedules and soil needs, but rain does not fall uniformly across the desert landscape. On January 11, 2005, I went to the Joshua Tree National Park Oasis Visitor Center (elevation 1969 feet) and checked the rainfall reports.  Since January 1 there had been 1.01 inches. I was stunned; where was the water I had felt falling? I called Joe Zarki, Chief of Interpretation, and his home rain gage at 3300 feet elevation showed 7.5 inches since Christmas—more like it.  At Black Rock ranger station (elevation 4000 feet) the figure was above 9 inches. All the gauges are right, all separate realities.  Last summer the homeowners in Wonder Valley experienced devastating floods but not those of us on the other side of Adobe Road in Desert Heights. Now it is in Wonder Valley where dune primroses are already being noticed and lupines are reported blooming in Sheephole Pass. Nothing spectacular yet, but…

When will the wildflowers peak?  You know the problem with that question.  There is no single peak, but rolling peaks.  As the weather warms, blooming moves upslope always tracking pockets of moisture. Barring unpredictable weather, and based on region wide rainfall, we are in for the best year of this generation. My best year was 1983, when the southern California coast flooded and they started talking about El Niños.  That was the year Carrizo Creek (in southern Anza Borrego Desert) ran for a year creating a new wetland, the badland hills were solid lupine and poppies, and the Newberry Mountains and Calico Hills (outside Daggett, east of Barstow, where I was working at the Solar One Power Plant) were solid swaths of day-glow orange/yellow.  I didn’t expect a repeat of such splendor in my lifetime.  I am hopeful.

This spring and early summer do not go visiting your relatives in Chicago, stay home and roam (at a minimum) where the Wildflower Alerts point you. Get a map, search for clues, and find your own pockets of flowers. Clean the camera, change the oil, get fit. This is the year. -.

What’s Happening?
(April/May 2005)

Back in my school days I had a problem remembering the flowery details. Pistils, stamens, sepals, petals—well, the petals and sepals were easy, but the rest, not. For some reason the curriculum did not include what the parts were used for. Oh, there was never a question that there were boy parts and girl parts, or that bees had a role in bringing the parts together (pollination), or that until they did, offspring could not happen. But the wonder, the differences of these parts, took awhile to sink in. The change in perception came with a growing experience of the “why” of these parts.  A spring like this one in 2005 is a great opportunity to explore the “why.”

Here are some of the whys of this season’s personal favorite, the brown-eyed primrose, or just browneyes, Camissonia claviformes.   Browneyes is a member of the evening primrose family and there are a few things we can expect:
4 sepals that protect the flower in bud, reflexed back after opening; and 4 petals, the colorful parts that attract from afar. The petals are attached to the tube at the top of the stalk-shaped ovary.  The inside of the tube is a glistening mass of brownish maroon cells—the browneyes which act as a signal to the pollinator, and produce nectar.
8 stamens (the boy or “men’s” part), each with an anther sack containing the pollen, and connected by a filament to the tube.
1 pistil (the girl part). The pistil has three parts: the stigma, which reaches up and out to receive pollen, connected by the style (down which a pollen grain must travel) to the ovary containing the ovules, which, after pollination, develop into seeds (in humans the ovules develop into babies.)  All the different Camissonia have pistils shaped like clubs. Stigmas for other groups of the family may be divided into four thread-like parts (see the dune evening-primrose).

The common name for this genus is Suncups, because many of its members are yellow and open in the early morning. But many of them, like browneyes, are white, and they open in the evening. White petals are good at reflecting light, and are common to night blooming flowers.

The flowers all grow on the same side of the stem.  The flowers bloom in a sequence moving from the bottom of the stem towards the top. The top of the stem bends, clustering the flowers at the top, making them obvious to a cruising pollinator.  The cluster maintains its attractive position because the distracting buds are tucked underneath and the pollinated flowers loose their petals (see top illustration).

I have never seen the pollinator, but I suspect it is a small moth.  Why?  The anther is long and narrow and delicately but firmly poised at mid-section atop the filament. Take your finger and touch one—it will rock back and forth. The anthers produce masses of sticky cobweb-like threads full of pollen.

 The pistil, with its clubbed head, is physically and chemically more complicated than the stamen because it is the route by which pollen grains reach the ovule for fertilization.  Mistakes can be costly.  Therefore, the pistil has tricks of timing and placement.  To discover some of these tricks look at all the flowers on a showy head early in the evening, as the action is starting.

With the youngest flower(s) the thread-like pollen is visible, the stigma is not, and browneyes are not yet colored. The flower is getting ready to be visited. Then you will notice flowers with a glistening naked stigma hanging in front of the anthers, with browneyes visible. Next look for flowers where there are pollen grains on the stigma and the anthers look shriveled.

 As this sequence develops, a hairy moth visits the flower(s) guided into the center by the brown eyes.  The moth first touches the stigma, delivering pollen it picked up from previous visits to other flowers as it then brushes against the anthers, which rock back and forth (but don’t break) against the hairy body depositing strands of pollen. The moth is searching for a drinkable reward, oblivious to all this pollinating business.

After pollination the petals turn pink and fall off, leaving the developing ovary, which resembles a baseball bat.

See for yourself.  Gently dissect a flower, isolating each part, but also watch all the parts working in concert.  In the evening visit the dune evening primroses out near Ironage Road in Twentynine Palms to see how they are similar but also different.

Writer and naturalist Pat Flanagan leads tours of the Oasis of Mara at 29 Palms Inn at 8:30 a.m. every Sat./Sun. (weather permitting). She is also Marketing Coordinator for Twentynine Palms Chamber of Commerce.

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