THE BUMBLE-BEE
THE flowers with pollen were cut off, those with ovaries wrapped each in
a separate gauze-bag. Every morning they went and watched the
blossoming. With pollen taken from the cut flowers they powdered the
stigmas of four or five pistillate blossoms. And it happened just as
their uncle had said. The ovaries whose stigmas had received the pollen
became pumpkins, the others dried up without swelling. Now, during these
experiments, which were both a serious study and a joyful amusement,
Uncle Paul continued his account of the flower.
“The pollen reaches the stigma in divers ways. Sometimes the stamens,
which are longer, let it fall by its own weight on the shorter pistil.
Sometimes the wind, shaking the flower, deposits the dust of the stamens
on the stigma, or even carries it long distances for the benefit of
other ovaries.
“There are flowers whose stamens behave in such a manner as to fulfil
their mission. They bend over alternately and apply their anthers to the
stigma, there to deposit some pollen; then slowly raise themselves to
give place one to another. They might be regarded as a circle of
courtiers depositing their offerings at the feet of a great king. These
salutations at an end, the rôle of the stamens is finished. The flower
fades, but the ovary begins to ripen its seeds.
[Illustration: Diœcious plants (male and female) of Vallisneria
Spiralis]
“The vallisneria is a plant that lives under the water. It is very
common in the Southern Canal. Its leaves resemble narrow green ribbons.
It is diœcious, that is to say it has flowers with stamens and those
with pistils on different plants. The pistillate flowers are borne on
long, tightly curled stems. The blossoms with stamens have only very
short stems. Under water, where the current would carry away the pollen
and prevent its fastening itself on the stigmas, the quickening action
of the stamens on the pistil cannot take place. So the vallisneria,
fixed by its roots in the mud, is obliged to send its flowers to the
surface of the water to let them blossom in the open air. It is easy for
the pistillate flowers. They unwind the curl that supports them, and
mount to the surface. But what will the staminate flowers do, fastened
as they are to the bottom with their short stems?”
“I cannot undertake to say,” answered Jules.
“Well, by their own strength, without any external aid, these flowers
pull away from their stems, break their moorings, and mount to the
surface to rejoin the pistillate flowers. Then they open their little
white corollas and free their pollen to wind and insects, which deposit
it on the stigmas. After that they die and the current carries them
away, while the flowers quickened by the pollen curl up again and
descend once more beneath the water, there to ripen their ovaries at
leisure.”
“It is wonderful, Uncle; one would say those little flowers know what
they are doing.”
“They do not know what they are doing; they obey mechanically the laws
of Providence, which makes sport of difficulties and knows how to
accomplish miracles in a simple blade of grass. Would you like another
striking example of this infinite wisdom that foresees everything,
arranges everything? Let us come back to the snap-dragon.
“Insects are the flower’s auxiliaries. Flies, wasps, honey-bees,
bumble-bees, beetles, butterflies, all vie with one another in rendering
aid by carrying the pollen of the stamens to the stigmas. They dive into
the flower, enticed by a honeyed drop expressly prepared at the bottom
of the corolla. In their efforts to obtain it they shake the stamens and
daub themselves with pollen, which they carry from one flower to
another. Who has not seen bumble-bees coming out of the bosom of the
flowers all covered with pollen? Their hairy stomachs, powdered with
pollen, have only to touch a stigma in passing to communicate life to
it. When in the spring you see on a blooming pear-tree, a whole swarm of
flies, bees, and butterflies, hurrying, humming, and fluttering, it is a
triple feast, my friends: a feast for the insect that pilfers in the
depth of the flowers; a feast for the tree whose ovaries are quickened
by all these merry little people; and a feast for man, to whom abundant
harvest is promised. The insect is the best distributor of pollen. All
the flowers it visits receive their share of quickening dust.”
“It is in order to prevent the insects coming from neighboring gardens
and bringing pollen that you have had the pumpkin blossoms covered with
bags of gauze?” inquired Emile.
“Yes, my child. Without this precaution the pumpkin experiment would
certainly not succeed; for insects come from a distance, very far
perhaps, and deposit on our flowers the pollen gathered from other
pumpkins. And very little of it is necessary; a few grains are enough to
give life to an ovary.
“To attract the insect that it needs, every flower has at the bottom of
its corolla a drop of sweet liquor called nectar. From this liquor bees
make their honey. To draw it from corollas shaped like a deep funnel,
butterflies have a long trumpet, curled in a spiral when at rest, but
which they unroll and plunge into the flower like a bore when they wish
to obtain the delicious drink. The insect does not see this drop of
nectar; however, it knows that it is there and finds it without
hesitation. But in some flowers a grave difficulty presents itself:
these flowers are closed tight everywhere. How is the treasure to be got
at, how find the entrance that leads to the nectar? Well, these closed
flowers have a signboard, a mark that says clearly: Enter here.”
“You won’t make us believe that!” cried Claire.
“I am not going to make you believe anything, my dear child; I am going
to show you. Look at this snap-dragon blossom. It is shut tight, its two
closed lips leave no passage between. Its color is a uniform purplish
red; but there, just in the middle of the lower lip, is a large spot of
bright yellow. This spot, so appropriate for catching the eye, is the
mark, the signboard I told you of. By its brightness it says: Here is
the keyhole.
[Illustration: Bumble-Bee]
“Press your little finger on the spot. You see. The flower yawns
immediately, the secret lock works. And you think the bumble-bee does
not know these things? Watch it in the garden and you will see how it
can read the signs of the flowers. When it visits a snap-dragon, it
always alights on the yellow spot and nowhere else. The door opens, it
enters. It twists and turns in the corolla and covers itself with
pollen, with which it daubs the stigma. Having drunk the drop, it goes
off to other flowers, forcing the opening of which it knows the secret
thoroughly.
“All closed flowers have, like the snap-dragon, a conspicuous point, a
spot of bright color, a sign that shows the insect the entrance to the
corolla and says to it: Here it is. Finally, insects whose trade it is
to visit flowers and make the pollen fall from the stamens on to the
stigma, have a wonderful knowledge of the significance of this spot. It
is on it they use their strength to make the flower open.
“Let us recapitulate. Insects are necessary to flowers to bring pollen
to the stigmas. A drop of nectar, distilled on purpose for this,
attracts them to the bottom of the corolla; a bright spot shows them the
road to follow. Either I am a triple idiot or we have here an admirable
chain of facts. Later, my children, you will find only too many people
saying: This world is the product of chance, no intelligence rules it,
no Providence guides it. To those people, my friends, show the
snap-dragon’s yellow spot. If, less clear-sighted than the burly
bumble-bee, they do not understand it, pity them: they have diseased
brains.”
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