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SAN JUAN NATURE NOTEBOOK BY SUSAN VERNON

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Spring Blues

Harbingers of spring

Swan Survey

Cattail Marsh

The inscrutable alcids

Monarch in our midst

The serviceberry and the waxwings

On Rufous Hummingbirds

"The quawmash is now in blume..."

Watching the wind birds

Counting fawn lilies

CALYPSO

posted 04/11/07
Two weeks past the vernal equinox, my memories of our severe winter weather are fading as harsh winds subside into smart breezes and the skies become more predictably blue. Spring flowers are rapidly coming into bloom and, as I walk about the island checking favored plant habitats, the wildflowers seem like old friends that emerge as if from a long winter’s nap.

I wondered if our wind and rain-soaked winter might have affected the timing of the wild plant bloom but the traditional early arrivals like red-flowering currant, Indian plum, satin flower, buttercup and shooting stars all flowered right on schedule - if contending with unseasonably wet terrain. A more troublesome aspect of our winter storms appears to be the large amount of blow-down that litters our forests. The woodlands are, in places, an almost impenetrable tangle of downed trees and broken branches. Some trails have been turned into obstacle courses that require heavy lifting to negotiate. Luckily, there are other wooded areas where one can still do a bit of botanizing right along the road. One of my favorite places is a mature woodland close enough to my home to allow frequent visits. I had always found early-spring orchids blooming in the leaf litter there, so when it was time for Calypso to bloom I knew just where to look.

I began my quest for Calypso on the first day of spring expecting to find at least some sign of the orchids poking their heads out of the duff. Sadly, I found instead the forest had taken a hard hit from strong winter winds. While one never expects a woodland to look orderly, the many downed conifers and broken shrubs gave the impression of a forest in disarray. Someone had already been through, clearing an access and pushing piles of slash off the road and down upon side trails. I knew the heavy mounds of debris would make it impossible, in places, for the little orchids to emerge.

Saddened to think Calypso would not be able to bloom, I cleared a patch of debris from beside one trail and waited to see if this minor mitigation would be enough to allow the orchids to break ground.

The fairy-slipper or lady-slipper (Calypso bulbosa) is one of a dozen species of orchids that bloom in the San Juan Islands. Other species include spotted and striped coralroot, rattlesnake plantain, heart-leaved twayblade, elegant rein-orchid, and ladies’ tresses. Calypso is widely distributed across the temperate northern hemisphere fairly common in woodlands but garnering threatened or endangered species status in some states in the western U.S. It ranges also across Canada, and is further found in northern Finland and Sweden, and in Russia. This orchid was first collected in Siberia in 1753 and described by famed taxonomist Carl Linnaeus who named it Cypripedium bulbosum. In 1842, William Oates renamed it Calypso bulbosa.

The genus name Calypso is derived from the Greek suggesting concealment; and indeed the little orchid’s habitat is in the solitude of deep woods where it is often overlooked amidst the woody debris of that realm. The species name bulbosa relates to the perennial’s bulb-like corm from which it grows.

Another association to the nomenclature relates to Homer’s Odyssey where the beautiful wood nymph Calypso, the daughter of Atlas, lives in the solitude of the mythical island of Ogygia and lures Odysseus to her home delaying his journey back to Ithaca by seven years.

Calypso is a diminutive plant – cryptic in coloration until the moment when its fiery pink flower blooms among the mosses, lichens and ferns of the forest. A single, sweet-scented flower sits atop Calypso’s translucent stem, its five rosy-pink tepals rising above a white-slippered lower lip that is spotted with the same rosy hue. The exquisite flower appears to have a downward gaze, so unassuming is its nature.

After ten days of intermittent spring showers and warming sun, I returned to the woodland near my home and was pleased to find two Calypso orchids had emerged from the duff in the very patch I had cleared, and were in flower; two more plants were in bud nearby. Shafts of mid-afternoon sun streamed through the conifers and shone down upon the little wildflower no longer a cryptic presence in the woods. I wondered if a fine bumblebee might fly by soon and pollinate the intriguing plant, thus doing its part to perpetuate the cycle of life in this forest.

Calypso has charmed many plant lovers over the years. Leslie L. Haskin wrote this impression of his first encounter with the orchid (nearly 100 years ago in the fir woods of Oregon) in his classic Wild Flowers of the Pacific Coast: "Walking through the hills one day in early spring, I came out unexpectedly upon the edge of a cliff, and was startled by the scene before me. Directly below, framed in giant firs and fringed with graceful alders, was a tiny blue pond, and in the distance was a magnificent view of the inhabited, open valley. Then, by chance, my eyes strayed to my feet, and there, all about me I saw a numberless host of tiny, rose-colored slipper-like blooms, nodding in the breeze… I was greeted by a fresh, spicy fragrance such as I had not known that any flower possessed. The beauty of the place and the flowers, combined with the element of surprise, and most of all, the new, refreshing scent, made a lasting impression on my mind."

While relatively common in the islands, Calypso’s place in the San Juans still is not secure. The orchid’s beauty has been its undoing elsewhere. Wildflower lovers unwittingly trample it along the trail or pick it for a bouquet; others attempt to transplant it to their gardens. The plant’s shallow bulb is attached by delicate roots; and it has a symbiotic relationship with a fungus in the soil that allows it to obtain nutrients. Any disturbance – even a gentle touch – may cause the orchid to die. Calypso is also preyed upon by rodents and slugs.

I took some photos of Calypso before returning home, and couldn’t resist clearing a bit more brush from the area. Several days later more orchids appeared. Even under ideal circumstances, the Calypso orchid’s bloom is short. While there is variation in the time of its flowering due to elevation and other factors, it won’t be long before the orchids are replaced by other plants carrying on the spring succession. But for the moment, Calypso reigns in the woods and I look forward to seeing how it is faring in other locations about the island. Good places to look for Calypso include the Jakle’s Lagoon Trail at American Camp, the quarry trails at Lime Kiln State Park, and the Bell Point and Mt. Young trails at English Camp. See you on the trail!


Susan Vernon is a writer and naturalist who lives on San Juan Island.

San Juan Nature Notebook / Calypso – text and photographs - copyright 2007 by Susan Vernon. No part of this column may be reproduced in any form, except for personal reference, without the written permission of the author.

SAN JUAN ISLANDER © 2008

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