Speaking of Specimens: Tales from the Marion Ownbey Herbarium, Washington State University.2/3/2025 # 22. Broad-leaved cattail (Typha latifolia) Wild food advocate, author, and Grape Nuts cereal pitchman Euell Gibbons described broad-leaved cattail (Typha latifolia) as the “supermarket of the swamps” in a series of popular books in the 1960s and 70s. Nearly every part of the cattail is edible or useful to humans. Yellow, pollen-bearing staminate flowers atop the flowering stalk provide a protein-rich pancake or cornbread flour. The thick spike of brown pistillate (female) flowers can be boiled and eaten like corn on the cob. Peeled stalks can be eaten raw or cooked and, according to Gibbons, are a “treat not unlike cucumber”. Lastly, starchy roots and rhizomes can be consumed like potatoes. Cattail leaves are used to construct baskets, floormats, and rush-seats for furniture. The fluffy hairs associated with cattail fruits are an effective insulator (akin to down in jackets or blankets) and when dry an excellent tinder to start a campfire. Cattails are also an important source of food and shelter for wildlife. Cattail marshes provide habitat for aquatic insects, spawning areas for fish, nesting material for wetland birds, and hiding cover for waterfowl and deer. Beavers and muskrats are especially fond of cattail stems for food. Ecologically, cattails are significant in removing pollutants from water and contributing organic matter to soil. Broad-leaved cattail is one of two native Typha species in North America. European settlers brought a third species, narrowleaf cattail (T. angustifolia), which has since spread over much of the continent. Narrowleaf cattail often forms dense monocultures that crowd out other desirable wetland plants. It also hybridizes with both native species, and the hybrids can be aggressive invaders. Broad-leaved cattail can usually be distinguished by the staminate spikes being directly above the pistillate spike, whereas narrowleaf and hybrid cattails have a gap between the two spikes. Technical features of the female inflorescence however, (such as the shape and presence of tiny sterile bracts within the spike), are needed for reliable identification. Cattails are a challenge to prepare as herbarium specimens because their thick flower spikes have a tendency to explode when mature into a mass of cottony fluff (all the better to disperse tiny seeds by the wind). Each pistillate spike may have as many as 25,000 seeds tightly packed together. I have had more than one cattail inflorescence burst while preparing a specimen, and can attest that getting all those little seeds back into a flower spike is impossible! – Walter Fertig, 2 February 2025 # 21. Colonial bentgrass and bentgrass nematode (Agrostis capillaris infected by Anguina agrostis) Galls are tumor-like growths on leaves, stems, flowers, or roots, formed by plants in response to herbivory or egg-laying by various insects (especially wasps and aphids), mites, bacteria, fungi, or nematodes. Flower galls can be deleterious to plants by reducing seed production. For taxonomists, flower galls can make species identification a real challenge. The grass specimen shown here, colonial bentgrass (Agrostis capillaris) has been infected by a nematode (Anguina agrostis) which specializes in parasitizing flowers of Agrostis and several other grass genera. Typical colonial bentgrass has relatively short, rounded clusters of green, petal-less flowers (called florets) borne in wispy, open inflorescences. Florets infected by nematodes are about four times longer than normal and have pointed tips. Gall-bearing colonial bentgrass plants look so distinct that they were once named a separate species, Agrostis silvatica, in their native Europe. Nematodes are tiny invertebrates that belong to their own phylum (though distantly related to tardigrades and arthropods). Most are only 1000-4000 microns long (for comparison, a human hair is about 100-180 microns thick). Nematodes are the most abundant animals on Earth, outnumbering humans by 60 billion to one and are ubiquitous in every ecosystem, but particularly in water and soil. Bentgrass galls form in response to invasion of developing ovules by the motile juvenile phase of the nematode after it passes from the soil and up the growing grass stem to the inflorescence. Within the growing gall, juveniles feed on plant tissues and molt three times before maturing into adults. After mating, the female nematode lays hundreds of eggs inside the protective shell of the gall. After hatching, juveniles become dormant and overwinter inside the gall before emerging the following spring to find a new host. Humans have helped transport bentgrass nematode and colonial bentgrass over most of northern Europe, Russia, northern North America, South Africa, and Australia. I will admit being flummoxed when I collected this specimen. I knew it was an Agrostis, but it did not match any of the species in the identification manuals at my disposal. Fortunately, I showed a photo to Ben Legler, coauthor of the second edition of the Flora of the Pacific Northwest, who recognized it as the gall-infected phase of Agrostis capillaris and solved the mystery. – Walter Fertig, 15 January 2025 # 20. Flatpod (Idahoa scapigera) With somewhere between 391,000 and 422,000 vascular plant species on the planet (give or take), it can be a challenge coming up with unique scientific names for every genus and species. Taxonomists adhere to rules laid down by the International Code of Botanical Nomenclature, one of which is that the same name cannot be used for two different genera within the plant kingdom (though the same name can be used across kingdoms, such as Prunella, which botanists recognize as a kind of mint, but birders know as accentors -- sparrow-like birds from Eurasia). If the same name is used accidentally, the first validly published name takes precedence. Species named later then need to have a new name assigned. Flatpod is an annual herb in the mustard family (Brassicaceae) that occurs on rocky soils in sagebrush communities from southern British Columbia and western Montana to Idaho, NW Nevada, and northern California. The common name derives from its round and flattened fruit pods, which are borne singly on a slender, naked stalk above a whorl of oval or triangular leaves. The pods often have irregular red or purple splotches on the otherwise green surface. Flatpod is one of the earliest species to bloom in the high desert, and so most people don’t see it in flower. The fruitpods persist as a round, translucent, membrane (called a replum) long after the seeds and outer fruit walls are shed (much like Lunaria, a.k.a. honesty or silver dollar plant, another mustard species grown as a garden curio). In 1913, University of Wyoming botanists Aven Nelson and J. Francis Macbride recognized that the Latin name originally assigned to flatpod, Platyspermum (literally “flat pod”) had previously been used for another plant in the umbel family (Apiaceae) and thus was invalid based on the naming rules. Nelson and Macbride noted that the single species in the genus, P. scapigera, was widespread in Idaho, and decided to rename the species Idahoa scapigera for the Gem State. Idaho is one of several states (all in the west) that have been memorialized as genus names. These include Nevada (another mustard), California (a member of the Geranium family), Wyomingia (now included in Erigeron), and Coloradoa and Utahia (both types of cacti now included in Sclerocactus and Pediocactus). Washington has been used three times as a genus name (in clear violation of the rules!) for what is now giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron), sweet-cicely (now Osmorhiza in the umbel family), and native fan palms of the southwestern US and Mexico (Washingtonia). Technically, the palm and sequoia were named for President George Washington, and not the state, as it did not exist yet when those names were published. – Walter Fertig 1 January 2025 Photo by Maddy Lucas (iNaturalist). # 19. Common clubmoss (Lycopodium clavatum) With their evergreen foliage, yellow spore-bearing cones, and ropey stems, club-mosses or lycopods (Lycopodium species, in the broad sense) are nearly perfect for shaping Christmas wreaths. Actually, they may be too perfect for their own good. In the 19th and early 20th centuries, club-mosses were often over-harvested for their use as holiday greens. This, in combination with their slow growth rate and loss of forest habitat, has made club-mosses uncommon in many parts of the country. Club-mosses are not actually mosses, because they have water-conducting vascular tissue. Nor are they miniature conifers, as some of their other common names (running cedar, ground pine, princess pine, or running pine) would suggest. Club-mosses are similar to ferns in that they reproduce by spores rather than seeds and are often called “fern-allies” in older books. Lycopods, and their relatives the spike-mosses (Selaginella) and quillworts (Isoetes) belong to their own, separate evolutionary lineage that includes some of the earliest plants to colonize land. During the Carboniferous period (280-345 million years ago), tree lycopods were among the dominant plant species in the swamp forests, now preserved as coal seams. Traditionally, taxonomists placed the thirty or so species of North American club-mosses into the single genus Lycopodium. Anatomical and molecular studies over the last 40 years have resulted in Lycopodium being split into at least seven genera, each differing in the orientation and shape of their leaves and the organization of their spore-bearing structures. Only two species remain in Lycopodium, including the species shown here, Lycopodium clavatum, which occurs widely across northern Eurasia and North America and in scattered mountainous areas of the tropics. Club-moss spores were once widely used in fireworks, magic tricks, early flash photography, and medicine. Lycopod spores are tiny, extremely oil-rich, and have a high surface to volume ratio. They explode when burned, creating a short-lived (but impressive) flash. The high oil content of the spores also repels water, making them useful in coating medicines and other things that might clump together when wet. – Walter Fertig, December 18, 2024 # 18. Thompson’s peteria (Peteria thompsoniae) One of the mysteries of plant evolution is why some genera are incredibly species rich, while closely related ones contain just a few species. A case in point is Astragalus (commonly known as milkvetch or locoweed) which contains over 3200 species on every continent except Australia, and its cousin Peteria (sometimes called spiny milkvetch) with just 4 species in Mexico and the southwestern United States. These two genera in the pea family (Fabaceae) have similar growth forms and flower morphology, differing primarily in their stipules (those little flaps of green or membranous tissue at the base of each leaf) which are modified into sharp, needle-like spines in Peteria. Astragalus has been wildly successful in diversifying (it is considered the most species-rich genus worldwide and in western North America) in part due to its ability to specialize in unusual soil types and habitats. Perhaps the success of Astragalus has hindered the ability of its close relatives to compete and diversify in these same areas. And perhaps in a parallel universe (or if we had a do-over of evolution on Earth) Peteria would have thousands of species and Astragalus just a handful. Not that Peteria is not a success in its own right! Peteria thompsoniae, shown here, occurs in pinyon and juniper woodlands and scrublands in dry washes, sandy flats, and rocky slopes over much of the southern Great Basin and Colorado Plateau, from eastern California and southern Nevada to southern Utah and northern Arizona. Disjunct populations also occur on volcanic sands associated with thermal areas in southern Idaho. The genus name honors Robert Peter, who was a 19th-century botanist best known for his contributions to the flora of Kentucky (and who probably never saw his namesake plant in the field). The species epithet commemorates Ellen Powell Thompson, sister of famed explorer John Wesley Powell, and an amateur botanist. She was married to geographer and university professor Almon Thompson, John Wesley Powell’s second in command on surveys of the Colorado River drainage in 1872. The mapping party was stationed north of Kanab, Utah, and Ellen spent a lot of time botanizing the local area. Ellen corresponded regularly with Sereno Watson of Harvard University, sending him packets of plant specimens from this botanically rich but under-collected region. She discovered at least 16 new species previously undescribed in the scientific literature, of which five were named for her (using her married name) by Watson. One of these happened to be an Astragalus (now known as A. mollissimus var. thompsoniae). In later years, Ellen Powell Thompson became a prominent suffragette in Washington D.C. Unfortunately, she died a decade before the 19th Amendment was ratified, ensuring women the right to vote. For more on the life and legacy of Ellen Powell Thompson, check out the entertaining blog “In the Company of Plants and Rocks” by Hollis Marriott (https://plantsandrocks.blogspot.com/2019/01/) – Walter Fertig 4 December 2024 # 17. Partridge-foot (Luetkea pectinata) Partridge-foot gets its common name from its distinctive slender, wedge-shaped leaves which branch in threes, like the front toes of the eponymous game bird. The leaves may form dense mats, or be more widely spaced along a woody rhizome. These white-flowered plants are only 4-6 inches tall, but are technically shrubs because of their woody stems. Botanists describe such plants as subshrubs or semi-shrubs, to distinguish them from taller shrubs. The low, matted growth habit is an adaptation to deep snow and strong winds at or above treeline, where partridge-foot grows in the Rocky Mountains from Alaska to Montana, and the Coast and Cascade ranges from British Columbia to northern California. Taxonomists were initially befuddled by how to classify partridge-foot. Frederick Pursh provided the first scientific name, but mistakenly thought it was a saxifrage (Saxifragaceae). John Torrey and Asa Gray correctly deduced that partridge-foot was in the rose family (Rosaceae), but thought it was a dwarf Spiraea. German botanist Otto Kuntze recognized it as its own genus, which he named after Russian sea captain and explorer Frederich Lütke, who mapped the coastline of Alaska in the 19th Century. Luetkea pectinata (pectinate – for the slender, tooth-like leaf segments) is the only species in the genus. The specimen shown here is one of hundreds in the Ownbey Herbarium collected by Seattle native Walter J. Eyerdam (1892-1974). Eyerdam was a professional specimen collector for major museums, like the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C., American Museum of Natural History in New York City, and the Field Museum in Chicago, specializing in mollusks, marine birds and mammals, vascular plants, and bryophytes. – Walter Fertig, 11 November 2024 # 16. Small-flowered trillium (Trillium albidum subsp. parviflorum) As a general rule, people avoid complicated Latin names for plants. But in some cases, the Latin name is descriptive or mellifluous enough for common use. One such example is the genus Trillium, known from about 50 species in North America and eastern Asia, and easily recognized by its showy three-petaled, lily-like flowers and whorls of three broad leaves (technically bracts) below the flowers. Trillium comes from the Latin trilix, or triple, for the floral and leaf parts being in threes. About half of the Trillium species of North America are of conservation concern, based on a 2022 report published by NatureServe (the national network of state heritage programs), the International Union for Conservation of Nature, Mt. Cuba Center, and others (Meredith et al. 2022, https://www.natureserve.org/publications/conservation-status-trillium-north-america). Many species from the west coast and southeastern United States are narrow endemics, making them especially vulnerable to broadscale loss of habitat from development, logging, changes in hydrology, and competition with invasive weeds. Small-flowered trillium is restricted to the southern Puget Trough and northern Willamette Valley in SW Washington and NW Oregon. This species is easily recognized by its small, stalkless, white-petaled flowers that are immediately subtended by 3 broadly oval leaves and its spicy, clove-like aroma. It occurs in moist, shady areas in Oregon ash (Fraxinus latifolia), Garry oak (Quercus garryana) and red alder (Alnus rubra) forests on alluvial soils over former glacial scour. When it was first named in 1980, parviflorum was thought to be a separate species, but recent genetic studies suggest it should be treated as a subspecies of Trillium albidum of Oregon and California, a taxon with larger flowers. Like other Trillium species, small-flowered trillium produces seeds bearing oily or protein-rich structures (elaisomes) that provide food for ants and wasps (the insects help plant the seeds when they carry them to their underground nests). The specimen shown here was collected by the late Albert Grable, a long-time biology professor at Walla Walla University who traveled widely in the US and Canada to add plant specimens to the university herbarium. In 1994, the Walla Walla herbarium (containing more than 15,000 mounted and unmounted sheets) was donated to Washington State University, where it is now part of the Ownbey collection. - Walter Fertig, October 27, 2024 # 15. Flaxleaf whitepuff (Oligomeris linifolia) Flaxleaf whitepuff (Oligomeris linifolia) is an easily overlooked annual desert plant with an unusual backstory. This bushy-stemmed member of the Mignonette family (Resedaceae) is characterized by linear, succulent leaves and a narrow, spike-like inflorescence of small, greenish-white flowers. The species is atypical in being 2-merous (with floral parts in multiples of 2), rather than 4 or 5 as in most dicots. Mature fruits resemble a warty sac that splits at the top to release numerous tiny seeds. Intrepid western botanist Thomas Nuttall made the first scientific collection of flaxleaf whitepuff in North America near Santa Barbara, California, in 1836. He named his plants Ellimia ruderalis, assuming it was an undescribed species. Many years later, taxonomists realized that the California plants were morphologically identical to Oligomeris linifolia, from the deserts of North Africa and the Middle East. In North America, O. linifolia occurs in rocky desert sites from southern California to Texas and northern Mexico. For many years, it was assumed that flaxleaf whitepuffs must have been introduced to North America by humans during the era of European colonization, even though it frequently occurs in undisturbed, natural-appearing habitats. In 2009, Santiago Martin-Bravo and colleagues used ribosomal and chloroplast DNA markers to assess the genetic similarity between North American and Middle Eastern populations and determine when the populations became isolated. The researchers found low degrees of genetic differentiation between the Old and New World populations, suggesting that their split occurred relatively recently. However, the team also discovered several genetic markers unique to the North American populations, indicating that they have been isolated for tens of thousands of years – well before the arrival of Europeans. The most likely explanation for the disjunct distribution of Oligomeris linifolia is a long-distance dispersal event between the Middle East (where the species likely originated) and southwestern North America in the late Quaternary – perhaps mediated by wayward birds or exceptionally strong winds. A similar pattern of ancient, long-distance dispersal from the deserts of the Middle East to the American Southwest has been documented in Senecio and Plantago. In these latter cases, enough morphological and genetic divergence has occurred since the Pleistocene so that the North American plants are now considered separate species (Senecio mohavensis and Plantago insularis). Perhaps, given a few more thousand years, the same will happen with Oligomeris and Nuttall will be vindicated. – Walter Fertig 8 October 2024 # 14. Juniper haircap moss (Polytrichum juniperinum) As we all learned in Botany 101, bryophytes (mosses, liverworts, and hornworts) differ from vascular plants (ferns, conifers, and flowering plants) in that they lack xylem and phloem (specialized vascular tissue) to transport water and sugary food, respectively. The Juniper haircap moss, and some other members of the genus Polytrichum, bend this rule by having tiny tube-like cells (called hydroids) at the center of their stems for transporting water from their root-like rhizoids to their narrow leaves (technically called phyllids). These specialized cells help Juniper haircap moss grow up to 4 inches tall, which may not seem like much, but is quite large for a moss. Polytrichum juniperinum often grows in loose clumps in relatively dry areas, and might be mistaken for a cluster of seedling conifers when the long-stalked capsules (the sporophyte generation of the plant) are not present to give them away as bryophytes. The ability of Juniper haircup moss to transport water more efficiently may help account for its wide distribution across every continent (even Antarctica), a feat matched by few other plant species. The specimen shown here was co-collected by Noe and Betty Higinbotham, who were prolific bryophyte collectors for the Ownbey Herbarium from the late 1940s to the 1980s. Noe Higinbotham was on the WSU faculty as a plant physiologist (and served as chair of the Botany Department for many years), but also had research interests in algae and bryophyte ecophysiology. Betty Wilson Higinbotham married Noe after meeting him in graduate school at Butler University. While she never attained an academic appointment, Betty became a science editor, expert moss taxonomist, and was president of the American Bryological and Lichenological Society in the early 1960s. At least 1300 specimens collected by Noe and Betty have been accessioned in the WSU herbarium, accounting for about 10% of the total bryophyte collection. But another 5-10 thousand of their specimens are still in boxes in the herbarium, awaiting identification, labeling, and databasing. While the Higinbothams mostly collected in Washington and Idaho, they traveled widely and have numerous specimens from Canada, Germany, and Australia. After their death, the Higinbothams established a generous scholarship for WSU botany graduate students to assist with travel costs for their research - Walter Fertig, September 22, 2024 # 13. Obscure cat’s-eye (Cryptantha ambigua and C. eastwoodiae) During the first half of the 20th century, many botanical luminaries passed through Pullman to visit the WSU herbarium and botanize the surrounding countryside. One of the brightest of these visitors was Alice Eastwood, head of the Department of Botany at the California Academy of Sciences from 1894-1949. Eastwood was an expert on the flora of California and the western United States, naming nearly 400 species during her lengthy career. She is perhaps best known for risking her life to rescue the type specimens housed at the California Academy during the fires that engulfed San Francisco during the 1906 earthquake. Eastwood climbed the iron stair railing to the sixth floor (the stairs themselves had collapsed) and then devised a rope and pulley system to lower boxes of type specimens to an assistant on the ground floor. In all, she saved 1500 priceless types from destruction, though all her personal belongings and the rest of the herbarium were destroyed. In June, 1925, Eastwood visited Pullman and accompanied the herbarium’s curator, Harold St. John, on a collecting excursion to the Palouse grasslands of Whitman County. Near the town of Winona, the pair collected an annual Cryptantha with wiry stems, tiny white flowers, and bristly, spreading hairs. St. John later named the plant in honor of Eastwood in his 1937 Flora of Southeastern Washington and Adjacent Idaho. Alas, Cryptantha eastwoodiae would prove to be a synonym of another species, Cryptantha ambigua, previously named by Asa Gray in 1878. The same species being named multiple times was not uncommon in the late 1800s and early 1900s, as taxonomists often worked in isolation and the opportunities to share and study relevant specimens were few until the development of more efficient means of travel and mail. As for Alice Eastwood, she had at least 60 other plant species named after her, many of which are still recognized. Harold St. John taught botany and was curator of the herbarium at WSU (then the State College of Washington) from 1920-1929. He left Pullman to chair the botany department at the University of Hawaii and wrote one of the earliest floras of the islands. St. John was a prolific describer of species and a noted “splitter” or someone who names new taxa based on minor morphological differences. Unfortunately many of his names met the same fate as Cryptantha eastwoodiae and are no longer accepted. Obscure cat’s-eye occurs widely across western North America on sandy to rocky soils in foothills, grasslands, and deserts. Like other annual Cryptantha species, fruits are required for positive identification. The four hardened nutlets of obscure cat’s-eye are finely bumpy on the back and completely hidden within the bristly calyx at maturity. Its tiny, tubular flowers are pollinated by gnats or male mosquitoes. - Walter Fertig, September 2, 2024 # 12 Cocklebur (Xanthium strumarium) Late summer and fall is a time when hikers become painfully aware of the great number of plant species that produce fruits with spines, hooks, or other prickly protuberances designed to catch a ride on our pant legs, socks, and shoe laces. Nature originally developed these structures to aid in the dispersal of seeds and fruits to new sites for germination. It is only recently that a new use has been derived for these devilish devices: the modeling of small, poodle-like dogs! According to Dr. Wayne Armstrong, retired professor of botany at Palomar College and his blog “Wayne’s Word” (which to quote Wayne Campbell of Aurora, Illinois, is “excellent!”), the fruits of cocklebur (Xanthium strumarium) of the sunflower family can be fashioned into a reasonable facsimile of a standard poodle (Canis familiaris). Sixteen fruits are required: one each for the face and topknot, two for the ears, one for the neck, two for the body, one for the tail, and eight for the legs. The slender, hooked bristles on the fruit (technically a modified involucre) help secure the parts together, although I have found a little white glue also helps if you wish to keep your poodle for posterity, or for a gift. Other bristly fruits may be substituted with varying degrees of success. I have found that the fruits of licorice-root (Glycyrrhiza lepidota) will also yield a poodle. However, the fruits of burdock (Arctium minor) produce an animal that looks more like a cross between a woolly bear caterpillar and an irritable grizzly bear (Ursus arctos horribilis). Cockleburs are native to North America, though they have likely expanded their range in the last 500 years to take advantage of disturbed habitats created by humans, such as agricultural fields and roadsides. Native Americans used the plant for making yellow dyes, ate the seeds, and drank tea derived from its leaves for various maladies. Whether they fashioned the burs into animals is, sadly, unknown. - Walter Fertig, 18 August 2024 # 11. Teasel (Dipsacus sylvestris or D. fullonum) “Weed” is one of those rare botanical terms without a precise meaning. Often, a weed is considered “a plant growing out-of-place”. Such a definition is broad enough to include both native and introduced species, as well as plants that are adapted to disturbed sites. A few weeds were originally imported for their economic use, but are no longer widely used by people and now relegated to roadsides and waste places. Teasel (Dipsacus fullonum or D. sylvestris) is one such plant. With its prickly stems and spiny flower heads, teasel might be mistaken for a thistle (Cirsium), though it belongs to its own, small family, Dipsacaceae, rather than the ubiquitous sunflower family (Asteraceae). Each purple flower in the head is subtended by a long, stout, prickly bract. The entire flower head resembles a very angry pinecone, or a medieval mace-like weapon, and is quite adequate to deter large herbivores from feeding on flowers or seeds. Since ancient times, textile artisans have used the dried inflorescences of teasels in the process of teasing (disentangling animal fibers, like wool) and fulling (raising the nap of fabric to make it thicker, softer, and more conducive for dyeing). In the 19th century, heads of Fuller’s teasel (the cultivated phase bred for its stouter, more curved bristles) were mounted in rows on revolving drums to gently tease cloth. Growing teasel for industrial use was a major industry in New York, Oregon, and other states. Today, commercial teasing and napping is done by wire or plastic hooks and the market for teasel has vanished. Wild teasel (D. sylvestris) was originally native to eastern Europe and southwestern Asia but is now found worldwide, including most of North America. It differs from the cultivated “fullonum” form in having straighter bracts and ascending, arm-like involucre bracts below the flower heads. Taxonomists debate whether these forms are really distinct species, and which name is the proper one for the species as a whole. The nomenclature pendulum seems to be swinging towards using D. fullonum for both species, as it is the older name (dating to Linnaeus). Teasel has opposite leaves that are fused into a shallow cup where they join at the stem and often contains rainwater and drowned bugs (the genus name translates as “thirst” in reference to the cup of fluid). For centuries, naturalists speculated that teasel might be a partially carnivorous plant, deriving some extra nutriment from decaying insects trapped in its leaf cup. Sadly, recent investigations have been unable to corroborate the carnivory hypothesis. – Walter Fertig, 5 August 2024 # 10. Sky pilot (Polemonium viscosum) Hikers who make it above tree line of the higher summits of the Rocky Mountains in summer are rewarded with dazzling displays of alpine wildflowers. One of the showier species is sky-pilot or sticky polemonium (Polemonium viscosum), characterized by its ball-like cluster of blue-purple bell-shaped flowers borne above extremely sticky pinnately divided leaves. More often than not, unsuspecting admirers stopping to take a whiff of the blooms will be greated by a strong, skunky odor emanating from the flowers (earning the species another common name, skunk polemonium). But sometimes, the flowers have a sweet aroma instead. What gives? Flower scent often serves to attract pollinators, who are rewarded with sweet nectar or a meal of pollen. Offering a reward entices pollinators to be “faithful” and travel from flower to flower and plant to plant of the same species, thus not wasting pollen on the wrong species. Sweet-smelling sky-pilot flowers attract large bumblebees, which are especially efficient and loyal pollinators. Stinky flowers can also attract insects, such as flies, which are less efficient pollinators and tend to visit multiple flowering species. But the smelly flowers (called mephitic, after the Latin name for skunk) have another purpose – to deter ants which visit the flowers of sky-pilot not to help with pollination, but to feed on the ovaries and unripened seeds. The sky-pilot hedges its bets – producing some sweet smelling flowers to attract reliable pollinators, but also having some stinky flowers to repel seed predators. This is a winning strategy in alpine habitats where the growing season is short, and there is no time to waste in getting seeds fertilized and ready for dispersal. Sky-pilot ranges from southern British Columbia and Alberta, south to NE Oregon, Colorado, Utah, and northern Arizona. Disjunct populations occur in the Okanogan Mountains of Washington. These populations are restricted to alpine outcrops of Cretaceous marine sediments or intrusions of granodiorite or tonalite, all of which are uncommon rock types in the state. Not surprisingly, sky-pilot is on the Washington Natural Heritage Program State Sensitive plant species list. It is considered one of the most vulnerable plant species in the state to climate change, particularly as snowpack diminishes and air temperatures rise in its narrow alpine range. – Walter Fertig, 21 July 2024 # 9 Sharsmith’s harebell (Ravenella or Campanula sharsmithiae) The Ownbey Herbarium contains more than 415,000 specimens of vascular plants, bryophytes, and lichens. Over 1,500 of these specimens are “types”, which were formally designated by the authors of a new species as the best (most typical) representation of that species. Taxonomists studying plant diversity refer to types when reclassifying organisms or inferring evolutionary relationships. One of the types in our collection is an isotype of Campanula sharsmithiae, collected by (and named for) California botanist Helen K. (Meyers) Sharsmith. This slender, low-growing annual has oversized, purple, bell-shaped flowers (faded to brown on the herbarium sheet), narrow serrated leaves, and raised bumpy papillae on the ovary surface. It is restricted to talus slopes in the Mount Hamilton Range, east of San Jose, California. Helen Sharsmith received her PhD for research on the flora of this interesting area at the University of California, Berkeley in 1940. With her husband, Carl, she collected the type specimen in 1935, but believed it represented a closely related serpentine endemic of the San Francisco Bay area. Nancy Morin, then a PhD student at Berkeley herself, recognized that the Mount Hamilton plants were unique and published C. sharsmithiae as a new species in recognition of Helen’s many contributions to California botany. Based on more recent phylogenetic studies, Morin split the genus Campanula into six more natural genera in a 2020 paper. Campanula sharsmithiae is now in the genus Ravenella with three other annual California endemics. The new genus is named for yet another famous Golden State botanist, Peter Raven. The Sharsmiths have a connection to Pullman, Washington. From 1937-1939, Carl Sharsmith was a botany instructor and curator of the WSU herbarium, while Helen was completing her dissertation. In later years, Carl became a reknowned naturalist at Yosemite National Park, where he served as a ranger into his 90s. Helen returned to Berkeley where she served as the Senior Herbarium Botanist from 1950-1969. Three other plant species are named after the Sharsmiths. A Draba and Hackelia are named for Carl (with the masculine Latin epithet sharsmithii) and a rare Allium endemic to the Mount Hamilton area for Helen (with the feminine epithet sharsmithiae). – Walter Fertig, 4 July 2024 # 8 Parker’s peavine (Lathyrus nevadensis var. parkeri) Very few botanists ever discover a new species. Even fewer get that species named for them. But only one botanist in a million accomplishes both of those things and is the subject of a children’s book about their life. Charles Stewart Parker (1882-1950) achieved that distinction. Parker grew up in a relatively prosperous African American household in Spokane, Washington. Initially he trained for the ministry, but later started a printing business and a newspaper in his hometown. In World War I he volunteered for the US Army and attained the rank of Lieutenant, leading a segregated unit in France. Parker always had an interest in plants and gardening, and after the war he enrolled at the State College of Washington (now WSU) in Pullman, earning bachelor’s and master’s degrees in botany under the herbarium director, Harold St. John. Parker helped collect vascular plant specimens from Washington and Idaho that informed St. John’s revision of the Flora of Southeastern Washington. One of his collections was a large, white-flowered peavine with numerous ovate leaflets and well-developed tendrils that turned out to be a new species. St. John named the plant Lathyrus parkeri (it is still recognized, but now reclassified as L. nevadensis var. parkeri). After graduating from WSU, Parker was hired as a botany instructor at Howard University, a historical black university in Washington, D.C. Parker developed an interest in crop diseases and became an expert on the fungus genus Hypholoma, for which he wrote his doctoral dissertation at Penn State at the age of 50. Parker ultimately became chair of the Howard University Botany Department and mentored a generation of students, many who went on be pioneering botanists too. Parker’s life story is memorialized in a 2023 children’s book entitled Rooting for Plants: The Unstoppable Charles S. Parker, Black Botanist and Collector by Janice N. Harrington that hopefully will inspire many more generations. – Walter Fertig, 19 June 2024 # 7 Wright’s filmy fern (Hymenophyllum wrightii) As we all remember from Botany 101, all seed and spore producing green plants have an “alternation of generations” life cycle, in which a spore-bearing phase (sporophyte) alternates with a gamete-producing phase (gametophyte). In flowering plants, the gametophyte is reduced to just a few cells within the stamens and ovaries of a flower that ultimately give rise to pollen and ovules, respectively (I am simplifying this a whole lot!). Bryophytes, ferns, and lycopods (club-mosses and their relatives) are unusual in that the gametophyte and sporophyte are separate, free-living individuals that differ in chromosome number and appearance. In bryophytes (mosses and liverworts), the gametophyte is the dominant phase in the life cycle and comprises the leafy or flattened blob-like body (thallus) we associate with these minute plants. The sporophyte is short-lived and reduced to a slender or bulbous capsule borne on a slender stalk that depends on the gametophyte for most of its nutrition. Ferns and lycopods are the opposite, with the sporophyte phase being the dominant form we are most familiar with (and which bear spores on the underside of leaves or in cone-like structures), while the gametophyte is a miniscule, branched or ribbon-like green blob that might be mistaken for a baby moss. Wright’s filmy fern (Hymenophyllum wrightii) is unusual among ferns in being able to persist entirely as the ribbon-like gametophyte phase, bypassing the sporophyte generation. It is able to do this by producing asexual propagules called gemmae, which are genetically identical to its parent plant and able to waft through the air or float through rainwater to establish new individuals. Most filmy ferns are tropical species that live as epiphytes on the stems or trunks of other plants. This species is primarily found in Japan and Korea, but an isolated population was discovered on Haida Gwaii (Queen Charlotte Islands) off the coast of British Columbia in the 1950s. This population is the only one known from North America that has the sporophyte phase, shown in the herbarium specimen from Canadian botanist James Calder (who co-authored the first flora of the archipelago). Other populations have since been discovered in southeast Alaska, British Columbia, and the Olympic Peninsula of Washington that consist entirely of gametophytes. A recent genetic analysis confirmed that the North American gametophyte populations are genetically similar to each other and share similar genes with populations from Asia (though some differences have also emerged since they became established). Filmy fern gets its common name from the very thin leaf blades (often just a few cells thick) of the sporophyte form. The gametophytes of Wright’s filmy fern are ribbon-like and branched (see photo by Peter Zika). They grow on wet cliffs, on the surface of trees, or inside rotting stumps and logs. All known populations are found near the Pacific Ocean, where fog may be critical to ensure the plants stay adequately hydrated – Walter Fertig, 9 June 2024. # 6 Jessica’s aster (Symphyotrichum jessicae) Jessica’s aster is endemic to the Palouse region of southeastern Washington and west-central Idaho. Historically, it probably occurred on drier stream terraces and at the transition between prairie grasslands and ponderosa pine forests. Over the past 150 years most of its habitat has been converted to farm fields, but small remnant populations persist along roadsides and undeveloped streams, such as the Rose Creek Preserve northwest of Pullman. The species was first recognized and named by Charles Vancouver Piper, the first botanist on the faculty of Washington State College (now Washington State University) and founder of the WSU herbarium. Among his many contributions to botany, Piper wrote the first statewide flora of Washington in 1906 and the first flora of the Palouse Region in 1901 (later expanded to the Flora of Southeastern Washington and Adjacent Idaho). Piper left Pullman in 1903 to work for the US Department of Agriculture, where he helped introduce new forage grasses (such as Sudan grass from Africa), developed grass cultivars widely used on golf courses, and helped popularize the cultivation of soybeans. The origin of the name “Jessica’s aster” is a bit of a mystery. Piper makes no mention of the inspiration for the name in his original description of the species in 1898. The Latin epithet jessicae is clearly feminine, so it had to be named for a Jessica. Piper’s spouse, however, was named Laura, and the couple was childless. Perusing digital herbarium collections from the 1890s in SEINet, I could find no mention of any botanists from the Pullman or Moscow areas named Jessica. It finally occurred to me that Piper may have been invoking the name Jessica from Shakespeare’s “Merchant of Venice”, in which Jessica is the daughter of the moneylender Shylock. Jessica is derived from the biblical name “Iscah”, which translates as vision, or sight. Jessica’s aster is a beautiful, 4 ft tall aster with bright purple flowers, so perhaps was a delightful vision to Piper. At least that is my story, and I am sticking with it. To view more specimens of Jessica’s aster, go to the WSU herbarium database (Consortium of Intermountain Herbaria Collection Search Parameters (intermountainbiota.org) -Walter Fertig 28 May 2024 # 5 Arctic gentian (Gentiana algida) Some flowers slowly rotate to track the sun, while others may close and reopen overnight. But the Arctic gentian has derived a neat trick to close its flowers ahead of summer rain showers. The plant is able to detect sudden drops in the temperature of its tubular corolla caused by clouds or cooling air temperatures that precede daily afternoon thunderstorms in its high mountain habitat. Closing its flowers prevents rain drops from dislodging pollen from the anthers, or having the pollen become sticky and clumped. Wet flowers are also less attractive to the plant’s pollinators (mostly large bumblebees). Once the rain has stopped and sunlight returns, the flowers slowly re-open as if nothing had happened, but with their pollen nice and dry and ready for dispersal. Mike Bynum and William Smith, researchers from the University of Wyoming, conducted lab and field experiments that demonstrated that arctic gentian’s floral closure was not due to changes in solar irradiance, wind, or humidity. The scientists also found that flowers that were forced to remain open (with tiny wax paper cones inserted inside the corolla!) experienced a 34-59% decrease in the amount of available pollen and significant reduction in the number of viable seeds produced and their germination success. Arctic gentians (also known as whitish gentian) can be recognized by their basal clump of narrow, grass-like leaves and large, mostly white to yellowish flowers with irregular purple blotches or streaks. The tubular corolla can be up to 2 inches long and is characterized by 5 short lobes alternating with 5 raised pleats. It is found in arctic tundra from Siberia to Alaska and the Yukon, and then again on alpine peaks in the central and southern Rocky Mountains from SW Montana and western Wyoming to northern New Mexico. The specimen shown here was collected by the Ownbey Herbarium’s namesake, Marion Ownbey, from the Medicine Bow Mountains of southeastern Wyoming in 1934, when he was an undergraduate at the University of Wyoming. – Walter Fertig 4. Pacific dogwood (Cornus nuttallii) How many flowers do you see on each of these branches of Pacific dogwood? If you answered “one” on each stem, don’t feel too bad. Most people would agree with you. Of course, you would all be wrong. The correct answer, to use the technical botanical term, is “lots”. Each dogwood flower is actually a ball-like inflorescence of several dozen tiny, 4-petaled, greenish-white to purplish flowers surrounded by 4-7 large, whitish, petal-like bracts (technically leaves) that create the illusion of a single flower. The petals on dogwood are analogous to the red “petals” of a Christmas poinsettia, though these are leaves too. Pacific dogwood is closely related to the flowering dogwood (C. florida) of the eastern United States. Early botanical explorers in the northwest, including Meriwether Lewis and David Douglas, assumed the showy trees were one and the same species. Thomas Nuttall was the first scientifically trained botanist to note the difference (C. florida has only 4 petal-like bracts and fruits that are round, rather than angular in cross-section). Nuttall was a contemporary of John James Audubon and sent a sprig of Pacific dogwood and some bird skins to his artist friend as a gift. Audubon scooped Nuttall and published Cornus nuttallii as a new species – having the decency to at least name it after Nuttall. This was the first and only plant species ever scientifically described by Audubon. True to its common name, Pacific dogwood ranges mostly near the Pacific Ocean from southwestern British Columbia and western Washington, south through Oregon to southern California. Nearly all populations are found in and west of the Cascade Range. Some isolated populations are disjunct in the Selway-Lochsa river drainage of northern Idaho, where rainfall and temperature patterns locally mimic the wet northwest coast. Nearly 100 “coastal disjunct” plant species show a similar geographic pattern in Idaho, raising the question of whether these species have persisted following post-glacial climate changes in the intervening areas, or arrived from long distance dispersal. For more information on the Ownbey Herbarium and its specimens, go to https://ownbeyherbarium.weebly.com/ – Walter Fertig, collections manager, Marion Ownbey Herbarium. 3. Klickitat biscuitroot (Lomatium klickitatense) Sometimes insects make pretty good taxonomists. At least that is what entomologist Wayne Whaley discovered when examining the favorite host plants of Indra swallowtail butterfly caterpillars. Across the western US, Whaley observed Papilo indra caterpillars feeding on some, but not all, populations of the widespread umbel species, Gray’s biscuitroot (Lomatium grayii). Systematist Jason Alexander of the Jepson Herbarium undertook a detailed analysis of hundreds of specimens of L. grayii across its range and discovered consistent morphological differences that correlated with geography and the feeding habits of Indra caterpillars. A companion study also found consistent differences in the essential oils present in the foliage of these different populations. In 2018, Alexander, Whaley, and Natalie Blain published a paper splitting L. grayii into four species: L. papilioniferum (for the Indra butterfly) of the Pacific Northwest, L. depauperatum (endemic to Utah and Nevada), L. grayii proper (now restricted to SE Idaho, E Utah, Colorado, and Wyoming) and L. klickitatense, endemic to the Klickitat River drainage and vicinity in southern Washington and adjacent Oregon. Klickitat biscuitroot (L. klickitatense) differs from the more widespread L. papilioniferum in being much more robust (with leaves and stems up to 3 feet tall and wide) and having more finely divided leaves with long, narrow leaflets that are smooth, rather than rough (scabrous). It is locally abundant within its narrow range and easy to spot along the red cliffs on the Goldendale-Glenwood Highway and Highway 142 along the Klickitat River. Ironically, this species does not appear to have ever been collected by Wilhelm Suksdorf, Washington’s preeminent pioneer botanist and longtime resident of nearby Bingen in the Columbia Gorge. Over a dozen collections of L. klickitatense were made in the 1960s and 1980s (including many by a WSU graduate student studying chemical properties of Lomatium species), but it remained undetected in the herbarium folders. What other unnamed species may be lurking in the cabinets? For more information on the Ownbey Herbarium and its specimens, go to https://ownbeyherbarium.weebly.com/ – Walter Fertig, collections manager, Marion Ownbey Herbarium. 2. Indian apple or sacred datura (Datura wrightii) The genus Datura contains about 25 species found worldwide in tropical and warm temperate areas, including North America. Like many members of the nightshade family (Solanaceae), Datura species are deadly poisonous, though they were used (carefully) by indigenous cultures as a narcotic and to induce hallucinations. All parts of the plant (leaves, stems, fruits, flowers, and even nectar and pollen) contain various alkaloids, such as atropine, hyoscyamine, and scopalomine. Naturalists have observed hawkmoths and hummingbirds behaving erratically around Datura flowers, perhaps as a result of intoxication from these compounds. Pollinators may become “Jimsonweed junkies”, going from one Datura flower to another for their next fix, thus being manipulated by their pusher-plant to promote cross-pollination. Datura wrightii is native to the deserts of the southwestern US and Mexico, though it has escaped from cultivation or appears as a waif as far away as Washington State. American artist Georgia O’Keefe frequently incorporated Datura into her iconic paintings of the southwest (her most famous rendering of the species hangs in a museum in Indiana and is valued at 44 million dollars). Datura wrightii is also noteworthy for having the largest flowers of any native western US plant, with its white, funnel-shaped flowers often reaching 8 inches in length. The specimen shown here was collected by former WSU Postdoctoral student Mark Fishbein and associates on a collecting expedition to Baja California in 1998. The Ownbey Herbarium has specimens from over 80 countries around the world, with Mexico having the third most collections, after the US and Canada. For more information on the Ownbey Herbarium, go to https://ownbeyherbarium.weebly.com/ – Walter Fertig, collections manager, Marion Ownbey Herbarium. 1. Constance’s sedge (Carex constanceana)
On the morning of August 9, 1909, pioneer Washington botanist Wilhelm Suksdorf set out from his usual camp on the southeast slopes of Mount Paddo (now Mount Adams) to collect samples of the local flora for his personal herbarium and to sell to herbaria elsewhere in Europe and North America. On the talus slopes above Hellroaring Canyon, Suksdorf found a tufted sedge with stems 10-20 inches tall and clusters of tawny and green sac-like flowers. Suksdorf did not know it at the time, but he would be the last person to see this sedge alive. Though he thought it was the widespread Liddon sedge (Carex petasata), Suksdorf’s collection would become the type specimen of a new species named by John W. Stacey, an amateur botanist from San Francisco. Stacey noticed that the Mount Paddo plants had shorter and narrower floral scales than C. petasata, and more flower spikes and channeled leaves than Davy’s sedge (C. davyi) from California. “Constanceana” commemorated Lincoln Constance, an expert on the parsley and waterleaf families from the University of California at Berkeley, who started his professional career as curator of the Washington State University herbarium in the mid 1930s. Unfortunately, no botanists have been able to relocate Suksdorf’s population on Mount Adams, and this species is now thought to be extirpated in Washington. David Biek and Susan McDougall, authors of The Flora of Mount Adams, Washington, suggest that heavy sheep grazing in the 1920s and 1930s may have been the downfall of this edible, grass-like plant. The species was synonymized under C. petasata in the Flora of the Pacific Northwest in the 1960s, but later resurrected by Joy Mastrogiuseppe, former collections manager of the Marion Ownbey Herbarium, in the Carex treatment for the Flora of North America. More recently, geneticists have demonstrated that C. constanceana and C. davyi are the same taxon, with davyi being the older and accepted name. So, C. constanceana is gone again (taxonomically speaking), though intrepid botanists exploring Mount Adams should still keep their eyes out for it. Regardless of its Latin name, this is one of Washington’s rarest plant species. – Walter Fertig, collections manager, Marion Ownbey Herbarium.
13 Comments
Lynn Kinter
4/19/2024 06:50:35 pm
Thanks! These are very interesting blogs!
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Laura Fertig
4/30/2024 05:30:12 pm
You've outdone yourself with this post! It's nice to see the insects get a shout out.
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Al Kisner
5/5/2024 08:00:53 pm
Good job Walter. Very interesting to read.
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Kent Houston
5/29/2024 04:46:40 pm
Enjoying your post! Have Laura and you been to the arboretum at University of Idaho? Another FB post I follow is the Illinois botanizer. Cheers, Kent
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Wendy Velman
6/7/2024 02:53:41 pm
Hi Walter, it has been a long time! Last I knew you were in UT...
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Lynn Kinter
6/29/2024 09:47:06 am
Excellent blog! I really appreciate your article on Charles Stewart Parker and Parker's peavine!
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Laura Fertig
6/29/2024 01:10:14 pm
Thanks for this interesting article. I like the WSU connection and the story of St. John's mentorship of Parker. What an interesting person.
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Laura Fertig
8/6/2024 05:22:24 pm
Another cool ethnobotanical plant story. My favorite.
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David Woodall
10/9/2024 07:24:51 am
Enjoying these posts!!
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Jeffrey A Back
1/6/2025 03:38:23 pm
Very informative!
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1/17/2025 02:49:09 pm
Fascinating glimpse into the work of the Marion Ownbey Herbarium! It’s incredible to see the stories behind the specimens and the dedication to preserving botanical history. Thank you for sharing these intriguing tales and highlighting the importance of herbaria in scientific research!
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Laura Fertig
1/22/2025 02:25:18 pm
Nice Agrostis specimen showing infected and uninfected growth forms.
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Hollis
1/24/2025 07:58:03 am
Very interesting post about gall-infected Agrostis capillaris!
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AuthorDr. Walter Fertig is the Collections Manager for the Marion Ownbey Herbarium. ArchivesCategories |