about the stagnant pools northward. We wandered up and down the slopes
with eyes bent upon the ground, carefully pacing between the vines,
searching for the Golden Moccasin-Flowers. Most of the buds still were
folded within the sepals, although we found a few that were showing their
golden tips and carmine lacing-petals. In the swamps beyond, we gathered
a dozen Nodding Wake-Robins (_Trillium cernuum_). This species is not so
gaudy as the Painted Trillium, being of a delicate rose-pink, and often
pure white.
Later in the week, while exploring to the east beyond the lane toward
Mount Vernon, I ran upon a select group of _Cypripedium parviflorum_,
many stems of which bore two blossoms. This colony grew beneath pines,
cedars, thorns, and dogwood trees. The soil was rich and dry, and the
leaves, for the most part, were blown off the bare black soil. I counted
a hundred plants—evidently seedlings—besides the ones in bloom. Some were
at least three or four years old; others were of only one or two seasons’
growth. The smallest plants were but a few months old. I had never found
so many natural seedlings of Cypripedium before.
We journeyed homeward through Putnam Valley to Mosholu, passing Van
Courtlandt Mansion. Near Cold Spring, along the borders of the Golf
Links, we found the handsome leaves of Bloodroot (_Sanguinaria
Canadensis_), of the Poppy Family, which is one of the early flowers, and
is pure white. The roots contain a reddish orange juice which looks like
blood, whence the name is derived.
At the crossing of the Putnam Railroad, we passed over the bridge near
Deer Park, east of Mosholu. Leaving the road abruptly, we turned to the
right, following along the west shore of the Putnam Swamp, which is
filled with the rank growth of skunk’s-cabbage, Indian poke, tangled
grape-vines, mints, mustards, golden ragwort, violets, dog’s-tooth
lilies, and unknown measures of wild ginger root, stick-tights, or
“pitchforks,” and cockle-burrs.
The Yellow Cypripedium also, at one time, grew along the edges of the
swamp, amid the Indian poke, violets, and lilies. Slowly we climbed
the hill toward the northwest, along winding paths among white birch
saplings, pines, and junipers, until we reached the Point of Rock
near Lowerre, this pile of granite being the highest along the Putnam
Division, in this vale. On the east of the rocks, we found a dozen or
more plants of the Showy Orchis, scattered among the stones and vines.
Their flowers, however, were faded, and fell as soon as touched. Among
the low bushes and plants I found a colony of the leafless parasitic
Cancer-Root (_Thalesia uniflora_), of the Broom-Rape Family.
[Illustration: =1. Indian Pipes.= (_Monotropa uniflora._) =2. Pine-Sap.=
(_Hypopitys Hypopitys_).
“_Humbly it wears its robe of snow,_
_When summer gives its bud release,_
_And Indians called it long ago_
_The Calumet or Pipe of Peace._”
W. M. L.]
Another plant lacking green leaves is the Indian Pipe or Corpse-Plant
(_Monotropa uniflora_), frequently met among the Orange Mountains of
New Jersey, and throughout the Hoosac Highlands. It grows among decayed
brush-heaps in dark woods, during June and August. There are twelve
species of _Monotropaceæ_. The flowers of a sister genus of _Monotropa_,
found in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, are remarkable for their deep
rose-carmine coloring. It is sometimes known as the Snow-Plant (_Sarcodes
sanguinea_). The tall club-like, fleshy spikes are encircled with crimson
pipe-shaped flowers, often sixty or even a hundred being found on one
spike. A specimen plant, collected in Washoe Valley near Franktown,
Nevada, was sent to me last season, on May 15th. The flowers grow there
along the higher slopes of the mountains, at an elevation from six to
nine thousand feet above sea level, amid brakes, pine, fir, cedar,
golden-chestnut bushes, and the beautiful evergreen shrub, Manzanita
(_Arctostaphylos pungens_).
Above the Point of Rocks, a rough canvas tent was pitched in a crevice
of the ledge—probably the temporary abode of Italian green venders.
Columbines, rock-pinks, violets, and Wood Betony (_Pedicularis
Canadensis_) crept along our path. The plants of the Wood Betony produce
yellowish-green as well as crimson-purple flowers. They are often called
Lousewort. Children often mis-name them orchids, believing this term
suitable to all odd-looking flowers.
The white Monumental Rock, east of Mosholu Swamp, is covered with glacial
scratches. From its summit a dream of visual delight spreads toward the
blue walls of the Palisades along the Hudson. The blossoming wood,
waving with pink and white dogwood branches, the western slope of the
rock itself, banked with rosy pinks, nodding lily-bells, and columbine,
form a scene the impression of which never can fade from the mind.
Passing the station of Mosholu, we followed the path along the railroad
southwardly near the marsh. Here, during July, three rare species of
Habenaria will bloom. And in the meadows farther northward, the Ladies’
Tresses—genus _Gyrostachys_ of the Orchid Family—and the Blue Fringed
Gentians (_Gentiana crinita_) will unfold in September and October. Soon
we came to the end of the swampy path, and entered the broad meadows of
Van Courtlandt Farm. In the distance the antique Colonial Mansion of
Revolutionary fame stood out among the ancient trees. Over these fields
the first bobolinks of the season were carolling. I found one of their
eggs among the grasses. It is a risky nesting-ground for birds. The
parades of the militia form upon these fields, the regiments’ camp being
located east of the mansion. The trees along the lanes hereabout are
English species, planted years ago by the owner of the mansion. Many are
crumbling and decaying as the mills to the left. Another half century
will do away with such as these. To the right flows Spuyten Duyvil
Creek,—a small, elusive stream; and as it glides into the swamp beyond,
it covers much marsh-land, where sedges and cat-tails flourish and no one
dares to wade.
[Illustration: =The Snow-Plant of the Sierra Nevada Mountains.=
(_Sarcodes sanguinea._)]
XIV
The Swamp of Oracles—Hoosac Valley
Science is welcome to the deepest recesses of the forest, for
there, too nature obeys the same old civil laws. The little red
bug on the stump of a pine,—for it the wind shifts and the sun
breaks through the clouds.—THOREAU, _Week on the Concord and
Merrimack Rivers_.
On June 6th I departed from New York for the Hoosac Valley, to obtain
photographs of my orchids and their haunts. Rosy-faces, golden-slippers,
witches’-bells, and milky-white stars all arose from the earth at once in
gay array, and disputed their line of order in posing for their pictures.
I had sent no forewarning of my coming to the swamps. I fancied I should
find more flowers in bloom if I took them by surprise.
The morning of the seventh, I hurried off at sunrise through the dewy
meadows. I felt sure I was too late for the Showy Orchis and the
Ram’s-Head Cypripedium, the former having faded in Bronx Valley as early
as May 18th. The hills were glorious; the robins, orioles, and bobolinks
were carolling joyously. The meadows, still heavy with dew, caused me
to choose my path along the edges of the Bone Lot near the old Pond
Hole. This I found fringed with pink azaleas,—the swamp-apple blossoms
loved of the children hereabout. I entered the chestnut wood beyond, and
sought the colony of the Large Yellow Moccasin-Flowers, only to find that
the shoes had been broken from their stems, and that there were none
remaining. Still, there were other groups in the Swamp of Oracles, and I
proceeded to scout the slopes leading to the hollow below, winding about
the knolls—or Sugar-loaves, as they are called here. These glacial hills
are worthless barren pastures at best, seldom ploughed for rye or corn,
for all attempted crops of grain here have proven thin and dwarfed, and
when it rains gutters burrow in the hillsides.
As I descended through Patterson’s Meadows, the air was musical with
humming bees and birds. Moths and butterflies sailed lazily about the
pools below, hovering about the first blossoms of Fleur-de-lis. Over the
rolling fields near, the tender leaves of Indian-corn rustled musically
in the breeze, and crows were still lingering on the fence, not in the
least frightened by the snares and scarecrows about the field. I found
the meadow ablaze with late Columbine (_Aquilegia Canadensis_); I had
never before seen fields so luxuriant with the blossoms of this plant.
They danced among the daisies, and outnumbered the grasses in their
patches. The generic name _Aquilegia_, or _Aquileia_, is said in our
manuals to be derived from _Aquila_, an eagle, since the curves of the
hollow spurs of these flowers resemble an eagle’s talons. But in this
case, the name should read _Pes Aquilegia_. Among the ancient herbals,
however, there is no record of this derivation. Originally, as Dodoens
wrote in 1578, this plant was known as _Aquileia_. Aquileia was also the
name of a town in the vicinity of ancient Troy. The town was celebrated
in history for its desperate resistance to Attila, King of the Huns.
Assuming that the origin of the name is vague, and observing the customs
of the ancients in the naming of plants, it might be inferred that these
flowers were first observed in the town of Aquileia, or were named in
honor of a king or herbalist of the region. This was the case with the
_Pæonia_, which took its title from that good old man, Dr. Pæon of
Pæonia, in Macedonia. The origin of the common name _Columbine_, also,
has occasioned of late much discussion in the popular plant journals.[44]
One author, claiming that the spurs of these flowers resembled a
dove’s-foot, said that the name should read “_Pes Columbinus_”—_pes_
meaning foot, and _columbinus_ signifying dove. But “_Pes Columbinum_”
was used by the ancients to designate an allied group of _Aquilegia_,
a species of wild geranium, written of by Linnæus in 1753 as _Geranium
Columbinum_. It is commonly known in English as Dove’s-foot Geranium, and
in French as _Pied de pigeon_.
According to Gaza, species of _Aquilegia_ were supposed to have been
named originally by Theophrastus—centuries before Christ—_Ponthos
Theophrasti_. Theophrastus is accepted as our first real botanist leaving
extant records of plants. The name _Columbine_ for these species appears
to have originated in England, or in the Low Countries. Dodoens described
them under that title as early as 1578; and as botany was not actually
revived until 1530 and 1542, we may accept Dodoens as authoritative on
the common names of that day. He writes of the Columbine: “The shape and
proportion of the leaves of the floures do seem to represent the figure
of a dove or culver,—these floures produce hollows with a long-crooked
tayle like a Lark’s-claw (and bending somewhat toward the proportion of
the necke of a Culver).”[45] The honeyed-spurs of Columbine, therefore,
suggested the curve of a dove’s-neck rather than the dove’s-foot or the
eagle’s-talons. Another author is reminded of a “dove’s-cote,” as he
looks into the open flower, which seems to him a fitting home for doves.
Columbine-flowers are often called “Honeysuckles” by children. The name
Honeysuckle, however, applies to the Woodbines which Dodoens describes as
growing with flowers “in tufts like nosegaies, of a pleasant color, and
long and hollow almost like the little bags of Columbine.” The Columbine
became confused with the Honeysuckles of the Woodbine Family, since
Columbines produce “little bags of honey”—which the children sucked and
christened. Furthermore there is a resemblance in the long hollow spurs
of the Woodbine flowers to those of Columbine blossoms.
The Columbines belong to the Crowfoot Family (_Ranunculaceæ_), and are
closely allied with sister genera, including Clematis, Anemone, Hepatica,
Meadow Rue, False Bugbane, Buttercup, Marsh Marigold, Goldthread,
Larkspur, Aconite, and Monkshood. These species produce plants with cut
leaves, as it were, resembling feet, claws, or talons of various birds,
animals, and fishes.
Continuing my journey, I crossed the edges of Rabbit Plain, observing
the low blue huckleberry bushes, laden with green fruit, and the flaming
flowers of the deep pink azaleas. Through the bushes peered the white
schoolhouse of District Fourteen. I wandered along the border of the wood
just out of sight of the curious gaze of the children. A cow-path led
windingly along the shades for a quarter of a mile. Near the bars above
the Swamp of Oracles, I found a spike of the Small Round-Leaved Orchis
(_Habenaria Hookeriana_) in bud. I blazed a tree above it, marking the
spot for another day when the flowers should be in blossom. Crossing
the East Pownal road, I turned into a hollow to the west, following
along over decaying logs and pine brush-heaps. The ground sent up a
rich pitch-like perfume as the sun poured down upon the mossy sod. Wild
lilies were abundant here, producing the largest leaves I ever saw.
Solomon’s Seal, arbutus, and wintergreen leaves (_Gaultheria_) were
creeping everywhere near the edges of the deeper wood. Within the denser
shades, growing among pine logs and heaps of leaves, I found the Great
Round-Leaved Orchis, so seldom found in the lower vales. It proved to be
a seedling, too young to bloom. The leaves were like large saucers, and
of a beautiful silvery green underneath. The plant is always suggestive
of the luxuriant tropics. I marked the corner, and shielded it from any
chance vandal eye with a broken branch of black birch.
The slopes leading to Cold Spring, in the hollow below, were abrupt, and
I was forced to slide most of the distance, clinging to the bushes. I
came out at the foot of the hill in the midst of a colony of Sweet Canada
Violets (_Viola Canadensis_) in full bloom. They grew along the borders
of a little brook flowing through a dense thicket of soft maple and black
birches. I had never before found this species in flower here. It seemed
to have flown down from the heights of the Dome, to grace this swamp.
Belated purple birthroot and its sister, the painted trillium, were still
nodding here. There were also a few pale-faced priests-in-the-pulpit,
unlike the larger coarse purple ones found in Bronx Valley. These Indian
Turnips are not abundant here as in the swamps and hills of Mosholu. The
wild leek of genus _Allium_ seeks the higher mountainsides.
I followed the Canadensis Brook to the edge of the Swamp of Oracles,
crossing Ball Brook at the junction of these streams. I penetrated where
the rarer orchids dwell, and where few children dare to travel. I was
still too early for the Showy Queen Moccasin-Flower, but on time for the
large and the small golden slippers, as well as the Pink Acaule—that
humble two-leaved Cypripedium which, as a rule, only seeks the dryer
edges of the swamps. The Large Yellow Moccasin-Flowers were beginning to
fade and turn brown. The swamp was luxuriant in its growth of ferns and
vines and foliage. Dogwood trees are very scarce here, but the azaleas,
mountain laurel, or calico-bush, and the lambkill flowers make up for the
missing snowy blossoms.
In the heart of the swamp I was attracted by an uprooted tree, about
whose stump stagnant water had settled, now reflecting the shadows and
sunshine as a miniature lake. Several baby deer-mice were in the pool.
Many were dead, and the live ones were swimming about in desperation. I
counted six or seven in all. I fished them out, and placed them on the
sun-dried moss, which covered the roots of the turnover, forming little
islands in the lake. But these white-faced, pink-eyed little creatures
were no safer after my rescue than before; for soon, in their nervous
fright, they crawled off the mossy islands, and were still swimming
when—not wishing to witness the end—I went away. It was one of the
many mid-forest tragedies which Nature seems to plan with so little
philosophy, and which I knew I could not prevent. Had I removed them from
the water again and placed them at a distance from the mud-hole over
which they were born, certain starvation would have awaited them. In the
topmost parts of the overturned stump, amid the roots and peat, a pile of
forest leaves was rudely huddled, forming the deer-mouse mansion, hidden
from the crawling turtles and creeping snakes, as well as from the hawks
and owls in the trees above. There are many natural causes of destruction
for such animals in the woods. Usually I have found the deer-mouse’s
nest in low thorn-apple bushes, at least six feet above the ground, but
always near the borders of streams. Such nests at first remind one of a
last year’s bird-nest filled with drifted autumn leaves, until the little
wildwood albinos are discovered.
With my vasculum packed full of perfect blossoms, I started homeward,
following the Pownal Centre road westward, in order to have a look at the
Ram’s-Head Cypripedium. On the edge of the marsh, as usual I found the
two hundred unfolding buds of the Pink Moccasins (_Cypripedium acaule_).
Near the Amidon Meadows, I startled up two mother partridges and their
broods—the Ruffled Grouse (_Bonasa umbellus_), so prolific in these
woods. The old hens, fluttering and sputtering, limped away with their
wings drooping, and continued to warn their chickens to hide. The little
speckled fellows were soon lost sight of beneath the dead leaves at my
feet. They ceased to peep, and being of the colors of the leaves, I
hardly dared to advance for fear of stepping upon them. I sat down upon a
stone by a tree, and waited for the return of the wild hens. Before long,
I heard a rustling of leaves in the distance, and a clucking and calling
as of a tame hen summoning her chickens to feed upon a worm. The little
brown balls began—one, three, then a dozen, all at once to take their
heads from under the leaves, and they ran like streaks of lightning.
The mother partridge came so near, unawares, that I saw the color of her
eyes. Finally, discovering me, she in terror signalled again, much as the
tame hen does in real or fancied danger. The little grouse hid again,
some of them putting their heads under leaves, while the body was wholly
exposed.
On June 8th I visited Rattlesnake Swamp. Pink Moccasin-Flowers and late
blossoms of Painted Trillium were abundant under the hemlocks along the
slopes of the Domelet.
On June 10th I heard of a colony of albinos or white _Cypripedium acaule_
reported on the Rabbit Plain north of the Swamp of Oracles. In searching
unsuccessfully for it, I frightened up an old mother whippoorwill. She
feigned broken wings, attempting to distract my attention from her two
unprotected yellow eggs upon the leaves at my feet. Both partridges
and whippoorwills remain on their nests until almost stepped upon, as
a rule, believing that they are concealed because of their dead-leaf
ground-coloring. The old whippoorwill perched on some distant pine logs,
and moaned piteously while I looked at her eggs. Her great round, sad
eyes distressed me, while she gave forth a sighing sound. I broke down
a small tree over the nest and near the path as I left, hung my linen
collar on a tree, marking the line of entrance for another day.
Four days later I returned, and found two little round balls of yellow
down, just out of their shells which were lying near. Creeping up
softly within touch of the mother, I had a chance of observing her
carefully. She had no shelter or protection but a leaf of the False
Lily-of-the-Valley (_Unifolium Canadense_) which covered her eyes and
part of her head. She never stirred a feather nor blinked either of her
round brown eyes. Close to the earth like the leaves themselves, pressed
down with winter snows, it was difficult to distinguish her feathers
from them. I finally frightened her from the spot. The poor little birds
heard their mother’s cry of alarm, and, babes as they were, instinctively
understood it all, opening their dreamy sad eyes, and trying to hide
away. Nest they had none, and rolled about over the leaves. I visited
these birdlings so often, in my eagerness to make observations, that
the mother finally left her young. One cold night, finding them almost
freezing and starving, I took them home. They did not live more than a
week, however, on account of my ignorance as to what food to give them.
During this time they became very tame and dependent upon my care,
rejoicing strangely when I came near.
The Southern Chuck-Will’s-Widow, a species closely allied to our
Whippoorwill, builds no nest, but is said to move her eggs and young, in
her large mouth, from place to place, wherever she may choose to abide.
It would be well if Nature had thus taught our Northern Whippoorwills.
I continued to visit the Bogs of Etchowog, collecting azalea, iris, and
the other flowers in their turn. In circling the Pownal Pond one day,
I ran upon a Water Thrush (_Selurus noveboracensis_) and her brood
of five little foolish, half-grown thrushlings. The awkward birds ran
peeping across my path, not in the least afraid. I caught them all, and
placed three in my hat, leaving two for consolation to the mother, while
I hurried home to obtain a photograph of my prizes. But I was not able
to reconcile them to their new conditions and food so easily as I had
domesticated my whippoorwills. As soon as I had secured a negative, I
returned them, nearly famished, to the mother, who was running along the
shore of the pond, tipping-up her tail like the wagtail. These birds are
swift in flight, skimming near the water, whistling as it were, while
they catch insects. Their nest is very difficult to find, being as a
rule among the roots of trees along the shores of ponds or streams in
damp woods. I frequently observe these birds walking in the stony brook
flowing down from Cold Spring in Chalk Pond region, as well as about the
shores of Aurora’s Lake in North Adams.
[Illustration: =Motherless Baby Whippoorwills.=]
The hillside clearings in this region are the haunts of woodchucks
(_Arctomys monax_). Many holes show where they have burrowed. Usually
these ground-pigs seek for their habitations clover and bean fields,
which furnish them provender. Exploring the dooryard of the woodchuck,
I found several plants of the Small Round-Leaved Orchis maturing their
seed-capsules. Not every wild pig’s garden bears this evidence of
æstheticism.
The fertilization of these strange Round-Leaved Habenarias is unique.
The anther is eager to give up its pollinia. The adhesive masses shot
from their cells when I touched them, and fastened to the head of my
hat-pin. When placed near the viscid surface of the stigma, they were
drawn forcefully from it, thus impregnating the ovules in the ovary.
These masses of pollinia, once glued upon the thigh of an insect, would
remain there until deposited on the attractive stigma of their proper
species.