13 Aug Swamp Tromping for Ghost Orchids
Bold blue and yellow flowers, as well as delicate pink and purple, peeked through brown grass. South Florida’s native blueberry offered small but luscious fruits. Young, new leaves promised renewal of a cowhorn orchid that was thought to have been lost to the previous year’s wildfire. As I stepped from dry upland pineland into the waters surrounding our destination cypress dome in the Big Cypress swamp, I noticed a crayfish courting a female with tantalizing undulations of its antennae and front claws. Pig frogs plopped into the water all around as we proceeded, and as we entered deeper waters within the heart of the dome a resident alligator approached from across its waterhole. Marvelous distractions abounded, but the real reason the South Florida National Parks Trust had invited our group to brave the summer heat was to see endangered ghost orchids (Dendrophylax lindenii) in Big Cypress National Preserve.
It was late June, middle of the short blooming season for ghost orchids, but also a notoriously wet, hot and buggy time of year for visiting a cypress dome in South Florida. I for one had never seen a ghost orchid and was willing to face whatever adversities the landscape might offer. Fortunately, the knee-deep waters were cool and the air surprisingly mosquito-free, though the resident alligator seemed determined to challenge my resolve as it churned nearby water. Park Rangers Lisa and Tony clustered our group in the tannin-tainted water at the base of a gnarled cypress tree.
“Right now, you’re standing in view of our first ghost orchid,” Lisa announced after reminders to keep an eye on the alligator and reassurances that it would likely do no more than charge at us. She smiled as the dozen heads in our group scanned the surrounding tree trunks with befuddled expressions, unable to spot the alleged orchid. “It’s not blooming at the moment, but it does have a bud,” Lisa added.
There isn’t much to a non-blooming ghost orchid. It has no leaves in the traditional sense, just succulent roots latched to the bark of a pond apple or pop ash tree. The roots were obvious once the plant was pointed out, but the slender bud, barely more than the basis for the flower’s nectar tube, needed further highlighting. It was an appropriate first sighting of a flower whose very name suggests its potential elusiveness. It is a plant that exists for all but a few weeks of the year as nothing more than overlooked roots. The emergence of its elegant white flowers, however, lure pollinating sphinx moths by night and admiring humans by day.
Our next ghost orchid was not only in bloom but was directly at eye level – the perfect bait for nature-loving paparazzi. I waited for the crowd and flashing cameras to thin before squeezing into the mix myself. The flower was smaller than I expected, the nectar tube longer; yet it was every bit as captivating as I’d anticipated with its alluring floral lip, pirouetting petals and extended nectar spur that I imagined must glow like the tail of a comet at night, directing sphinx moths to promised sweetness.
Unfortunately, this diminutive flower is also irresistible to orchid collectors and this species, once common in South Florida, the Bahamas and Cuba, has been poached to endangerment. Exact numbers are uncertain, but Tony speculated that Big Cypress National Preserve might currently house the largest population of wild ghost orchids in the world. As caretakers of this treasure, Lisa and Tony reminded us to turn off the location services on our cameras and to show no one this spot. They sadly relayed that despite their efforts, and protections from local, state, federal and international law, poaching still occurs even in this protected area. They shared that one of their domes had recently been ‘discovered’ and now has a visible trail where poachers are depleting a once healthy population. It was sad news that made me appreciate the cluster of blooms in this particular dome even more.
A loud splash drew our attention to the alligator that had continued following our progress from one bloom to the next. The gator disappeared under water and re-emerged moments later with one of the large frog that had splashed away as our group waded past. Perhaps the alligator was more interested in an easily-captured meal than reminding us whose water hole this really was, though I hoped poachers wouldn’t figure this out. These elegant floral treasures deserved every protection they could get, especially this ever-present resident guardian.
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