In
traditional gardens and farm fields, one expects to find plants growing in tidy
rows or circles. We prefer our plants in natural setting so we don’t get upset
to find purple phlox or sheep sorrel growing amidst the buffalo grass.
However, I do have a distinctly
planned area for flowers and another for vegetables. Imagine my surprise when I looked out the front
door to discover schwartzenberrry plants under our big pine.
I did not
plant schwartzenberries! These obviously arrived via feathered-friend-carrier,
an event that occurs more than we realize.
A quick
scan of the yard revealed a number of such deliveries--mulberry trees sprouting
from the middle of cedars--golden currants grow under elm and hackberry
trees. The draw behind the house and our creek bank are natural sites for wild
fare, but mulberry trees growing beneath landscaped cedars and schwartzenberry
plants beneath pines and cedars are out of place.
It didn’t
take long to understand why I have these vegetative oddities sprouting. My next close look revealed hundreds of birds,
flitting and hopping from branch to branch.
Thrashers sang their wake up songs as chickadees, robins, finches, jays,
grackles, sparrows, blue birds, and cardinals added to the ruckus.
These visitors
that brighten my mornings leave dietary deposits behind, which result in surprise
landscaping. I don’t always appreciate
their largesse. I recently found poison
ivy growing under a nearby tree. Some bird ate ivy berries before resting in my
whispering cottonwood.
Figuring
out the mystery of the surprise schwartzenberries left me marveling plants
reproduction. Cottonwood and the thistle seeds float like little dust motes on
spring thermals until they find a new home.
Elm trees reseed in a similar fashion with the help of the automobile to
spread those saucer shaped seeds farther than nature intended. I never leave my drive without elm envelopes waiting
to be deposited along my path.
Who can
miss the trail of the mulberry splat? Like
imported pheasants, imported mulberry trees adapted to the plains better than
the immigrants who brought them here.
The dream of a silk industry is gone, but mulberries remain and spread,
thanks to feathered friends who spread mulberries and schwartzenberries.
Other
plants adapted more tortuous means of reproducing. For instance, consider the devil’s claw,
which grows in pastures and ditches. These
plants, deceptively delicate and
beautiful, look harmless until that seedpod matures in late summer. Porcupine eggs are just as painful. They are
seeds shaped like small bird eggs covered with Velcro-like projections. I don’t
know their real name, but it is easy to see how they acquired the nickname
porcupine eggs. These latch onto dogs
and other furry creatures to be transported into new territory.
Nature has
done her best to guarantee her creatures’ survival. When I think of how seeds transfer themselves
from the mother plant to receptive soil, I marvel at this plan’s perfection. Sometimes wind does the job. Other times, creatures, including humans, serve
as unwitting transportation.
While I will destroy the invading
poison ivy, I will encourage the invading schartzenberry plants so we can look
forward to a tasty kuchen. I hope I beat
the birds to the berries.
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