Tasmanian Plants

Classical texts tell us that the Mountain Ash (Eucalyptus regnans), one of the world’s largest flowering plants can attain an age of perhaps 350-450 years. Using dendrochronological methods and radiocarbon dating, Sam Wood from the Forest Ecology Lab has found evidence that these giants attain an age of 500 years.

Prof. David Bowman also appears in the news clip discussing the role of fire in the regeneration of the giants.

And the trees that Sam examined were probably not the oldest!

As I have written in my post ‘the unbearable adorableness of turfed existence‘, small plants are very easy to love. Members of the Bristlewort family (Centrolepidaceae) in particular, meet all the qualifications. Most are turfed and all are small, barely attaining a stature exceeding a few centimeters.

Aphelia gracilis (Slender Fanwort)

For a number of years now I have been wanting to meet two specific members of the Bristlewort family, Aphelia gracilis (Slender Fanwort) and Aphelia pumilio (Dwarf Fanwort), particularly after I had seen illustrations and photographs of the two in The Student’s Flora of Tasmania Part 4B and The Nature of the Midlands.

Isolepis levynsiana (Tiny Flatsedge)

Other than the aesthetic allure of these plants. there are reasons for this eagerness,

For one, the genus Aphelia is endemic to Australian, that is to say, unique to Australian soils. Secondly, both the dwarf and slender fanworts are rare plants found only in parts of the Midlands and in the Northeast.

Adorableness and rarity. Such reasons are cannot fail to set off passions like rotating lights accompanied with sirens for plant lovers.

Needless to say, it did for me. So great my desire was to see these two fanworts and so swift was my alignment to this desire that in one fell swoop, I saw the both of them in a single day when I visited the Tom Gibson Nature Reserve on a Threatened Plants Tasmania group excursion.

The strange thing about these two plants is that there is little in the gist of it that would suggest that they are NOT sedges. Yet, they are so unique as to be recognizable at once. I shall explain.

A. gracilis spike

From every angle, these two plants look like small sedges of the genus Isolepis. The single spike (the flower cluster, consisting of many overlapping bracts) is laterally flattened and in practically every sense resembles the floral parts of Isolepis or Cyperus. When we come to this point we have got to stand in awe of the detail that plant taxonomists put into describing plants.

The Bristlewort family is probably best distinguished from sedges by their fruits. Bristleworts have dehiscent fruits, meaning that the fruits split open to expose seeds at maturity. The fruits of sedges, on the other hand, are indehiscent nuts. This fruit characteristic of Aphelia is difficult if not impossible to see in the field. Moreover, these plants are so small that you’d need a microscope in the field at the time of fruit maturity to look at it – not very logistically appealing for an afternoon walk.

On my plant hunt with Richard Schahinger of the Department of Primary Industries, Parks, Water and Environment (DPIPWE) and and other members of the Threatened Plants Tasmania group, we stopped at a small soak in the Tom Gibson Nature Reserve to look for ephemeral plants. It was not long before the keen and experienced eyes of Richard sighted the Slender fanwort.

The Slender fanwort (Aphelia gracilis) can be easily confused with sedges. In particular, the common Tiny Flatsedge (Isolepis levynsiana), which we found co-occuring with the Slender fanwort, has flower parts that look very similar to the spike of the Slender fanwort. However, upon closer examination, the hairy bracts of the Slender fanwort immediately distinguish it. Moreover, the Slender fanwort is often brownish-pink in all parts of the plant.

Aphelia pumilio (Dwarf Fanwort)

I was not quite as fortunate with the Dwarf Fanwort, managing only to find patches which had already dried out and died. However, Mark Wapstra had found some fresh specimens at another site in his earlier plant hunt and showed it to those around. It was as curious in real life as it looked in photos and illustrations.

Dwarf Fanwort is instantly recognizable by the pompous spikelets that practically dominate the plant body. Sometimes the flowering stalk may be taller Even if the flowering stalk. There is nothing else like it in Tasmania and there certainly is no sedge with such a disproportionate spikelet/plant body ratio!

I haven’t had the chance to ask Mark, a co-author of the Little Book of Common Names for Tasmanian Plants what prompted them to call Aphelias fanworts. Perhaps they likened the floral parts to an open fan. I’d prefer to think that the Aphelias are called fanworts because diminutive and inconspicuous as they may be, they have that inexplicable power to make fans of plant lovers, as they have of me.

What do you do when you are faced with something that is an unbearably adorable?

There is little recourse but to fall head over heels for it.

For many people the object of adoration may be a puppy, a kitten, a small fat chirping birdie, or some other cuddly animal. Seldom have plants been viewed as cute or adorable.

Yet everytime I encounter a plant in turfed perfection (being small accentuates this), with scapes of flowers or fruits pointing heavenwards, I start experiencing a fluffy feeling inside similar to that a kitten evokes in me in it performs it’s cutest antics. I’d call this the unbearable adorableness of turfed existence.

One of the many plants that fall under such a category is the Hairy Bristlewort (Centrolepis strigosa) (Just so you can have a feel for how small bristleworts can get, the picture above was taken with a $2 Australian coin which is roughly 2 cm in diameter).

I made my first acquaintance with this common plant a year ago in the Northwest part of the state and I have been finding it everywhere since. But everytime I see this little plant I cannot help but want to take a picture.

And as you would no doubt have surmised, I don’t stop myself…

Cudweed (Vellereophyton dealbatum), a little noticed but exquisite weed in Tasmania

Out of necessity, this post is going to have mild philosophical overtones as it points at an emotional journey I believe that most, if not all, naturalists take.

As a naturalist there can be a tendency to want to focus on what is being lost. The evidence of this is going to be everywhere. I have spent untold hours giving thought to and feeling rotten about plant extinction and the threats faced by may native plants: Climate change, irresponsible land owners, forestry, invasive weeds, etc, etc.

However, after much wallowing I realized the futility in focusing on the reality of all those facts.

The overriding desire of a naturalist is to appreciate nature. In appreciation one finds solace and beauty. One is in tune.

To give excessive thought to destruction or perceived threats is mentally and emotionally pathological to the innermost nature of a naturalist.

Roundleaf Wilsonia (Wilsonia rotundifolia), a threatened plant of salty places

The more passionate the naturalist, the keener his awareness, perhaps in scientifically quantifiable numbers, what biological treasures are out there. Likewise, the easier it is to start taking stock of the decline of a species.

Yet, in choosing to be INNUNDATED by facts of that which is unwanted we degrade our experience of enjoying beauty.

Make no mistake. I do not mean we should tolerate the destruction of the natural landscape. There certainly are individuals whose lot is to work for the preservation of nature. There is a fine line to draw between naturalists and conservationist.

What I do mean however, is that whether or not we take a proactive conservationist stance we can choose to visit the physical and emotional places that sing to us and not mourn (for long) and be bitter over those that have been lost.

Buttonleaf Everlastingbush (Ozothamnus scutellifolius), a Tasmanian endemic and nothing short of a botanical curiosity

Whatever the state of the natural resources, I want to continue to take beautiful pictures of plants, whether they be native or adventive. I want to appreciate their time and space. I want to learn from them, be in awe of the evolutionary journeys they have taken, and know them for all they have become.

Those that have been lost to extinction, I will acknowledge and appreciate that they once graced this beautiful island, in a more abundant and glorious state. I will not lament (not for long at least) their lost but I shall honor their memory.

And extinction is not always an absolute. Just recently, Hibbertia rufa, a plant previously thought extinct, was rediscovered. It will be events like these I will choose to give my attention to. I imagine that in the field, such delightful findings can only occur by grace and by an attention to beauty. And are not all plants beautiful?

It has been said before that ‘Truth is beauty and beauty is truth. That is all ye need to know’.

I cannot agree more.