By Ken Moore
Flora Columnist
Anne Lindsey – botanical researcher and teacher and co-author, with husband Ritchie Bell, of the second edition of Wild Flowers of North Carolina – has several of us asking that question these days about whatever flower we may be observing. Leading up to next week’s National Pollinator Week, Anne’s month-long series of N.C. Botanical Garden classes on pollination ecology is well timed.
Anne is making us aware that all those bees and wasps and beetles and ants and butterflies and all the rest are not flying about trying to attack humans. They are way too intent on finding pollen and nectar to survive to bother with us, unless we make motions to interfere with their nests. So before you reach for that can of insect spray, step back and take a closer look at what those insects are doing. Those insects we tend to dislike in our lives are playing a vital role in harmony with all the plants. Our lives are dependent on them.
When we do stop to think about pollinators, we most likely think of honey bees. As important as honey bees are, they are only a tiny bit of the pollination story. Thousands of native insects are the real pollinators upon which our whole way of life is dependent.
For example, hundreds of species of solitary bees alone go about their lives searching for pollen and nectar, and in doing so help hundreds of plants succeed in making seed to continue a collective vital role making our natural world function.
When I discovered black cohosh, Cimicifuga racemosa, coming into flower in the dark forest above the Eno River outside Hillsborough last week, I immediately became curious about what insects it needed to succeed. I didn’t linger long enough to make a scientific inquiry, but I was impressed with the antics of several big bumblebees hurriedly scurrying over the white flowering stems.
Along the flowering stem, clusters of showy white stamens (the male parts) surround the single tiny pistil (the female part) in the center of the flowers. Though other flying insects were visiting, none seemed to romp so aggressively over all the flowers as the bumblebees. I’ll give them credit for any pollination going on.
Black cohosh is an impressive summer wildflower of rich woodlands in the Piedmont and mountain regions. Candelabra-like flowering stems can reach higher than six feet. Sometimes you will see them stretching out for the light from dark forested roadsides. The much-dissected compound leaves can be a foot and a half or more wide, seeming to hover above the ground. I was surprised to find bumblebees in such dark environments.
Like so many of our native wildflowers, the black cohosh has a rich medicinal heritage. One described use of the herb was healing snakebite, thus the common name, black snakeroot. And like many an herb, the roots, soaked in moonshine, were used for rheumatism.
But don’t just look at the plant and flowers, remember to consider the pollinators and reflect how our very existence relies on them.
Email Ken Moore at flora@carrborocitizen.com.