Plant navel-gazing

In retirement, pondering on the marvels of the Natural World is something that I am doing more and more, and I find it exceedingly therapeutic in the restorative sense. One of the great things about being an active, aging, botanist is that my knowledge base is still growing and I revel in this fact on a daily basis. The up-side is that while many of those around me grow older and more weary, I get more and more invigorated by Nature because I know I still have so much to discover. In life there is always a down-side, and oft times it is difficult for me to be positive. The fact humans are still mindlessly exploiting the many wonders of Nature because of our exponential greed for the latest technological baggage is burdensome. Our increasing selfishness, consumerism, and the fact that we are becoming more and more dislocated from Nature bodes for a most horrendous future…

But put all that doom and gloom aside – rather let those of us who care about the Earth’s future take some solace from enjoying the wonders of Nature while we are still able. Every time I walk – be it down the road to the local Kikuyu-grassed park covered in dog faeces (despite the fact that there are poo-bag stations located at every entry point), in some local fynbos or forest place that is now being badly managed, or in my beloved scrub-encroached and fire-ravaged Lowveld, I take the time to ponder on: “How are the plants coping?”

West Coast hospitality

Last spring I travelled with a friend up the West Coast to see spring flowers at Clanwilliam and Nieuwoudtville, which were somewhat disappointing after the prolific displays of 2008 and 2009. We were booked to spend our first night at an eco-farm called Elandsberg near Clanwilliam, run by Annette and Chris du Plessis, and we arrived in time to join some other guests on a tour through the veld driven by Chris du Plessis. On the way he shared his observations of some of the intimate wonders of Nature. As he spoke, his fascination with the interaction between plants, insects, weather and moisture spilled over and caught us in its spell. The delicate, subtle and wondrous adaptation of one to the other to enhance and maintain the flow of life by conserving moisture and enabling pollination is truly amazing. We were also taken
over the rooibos tea factory and instructed in the numerous merits of this pleasant drink.
Throughout our stay we were treated with warm open-hearted hospitality and comfort, including delicious meals. I wish to pay tribute to this man who shared his enthusiasm with us and whose deep love of Nature evoked responses of gratitude and wonder. I sincerely hope that many other people will find their way to this delightful place.
Pamela Smuts, Cape Town

Compostible plastic

I received a present the other day, that had been bought at the Royal Horticultural Society in Britain, packaged in a plastic bag bearing this information ‘Please compost this bag. This bag is made with G.M.-free renewable corn starch. Put your kitchen waste inside, deposit it with the bag in your compost heap and it will break down completely.’
What a breakthrough! We live in a land of mielies – the source of corn starch – is there a hope that something of this kind might be undertaken here? Maybe it is a solution to the curse of the ubiquitous plastic bag.
Angela Smitherman, Pinelands

Afrikaans common names

If it could be possible to add the most common Afrikaans names in brackets at the pictures of plants or other subjects like butterflies, it would be very highly appreciated. It could also help to get more children interestd in veld and flora. I am sure that including an indigenous African language like Zulu or Xhosa would also be helpful.
D.F. van Zyl, Brooklyn Square

Porcupine propagators

One of the recent articles in Veld & Flora relating to the activities of porcupines (see below) reminds me of an experience we had some five years ago when we arrived in Betty’s Bay. It was winter and I noticed that most mornings there was activity amongst the Arum Lilies, the bulbs of which had been dug up and partly eaten. After a while I told Jane Forrester, Chief Horticulturist at the Harold Porter National Botanical Gardens about this with a view to obtaining a peaceful solution to the problem. Jane gave three possible solutions.

1. I could approach the CapeNature conservation students who would come and set
a large cage to trap the visitor. When the culprit was caught, they would arrive
and remove the cage and relocate the intruder to the mountains (like the hounded
Betty’s Bay leopard that was eventually shot.)
2. I could urinate around the perimeter of our property and thereby mark our territory and hopefully keep the porcupine away. Anyone who knows the veracity of the winds at Betty’s Bay would agree that this could be a hazardous occupation!
3. When I queried why it appeared that the porcupine was such a messy eater, Jane enlighteningly replied that this manner of eating was Nature’s way of preserving the species as a certain percentage of the leftovers would regenerate themselves. She suggested that I scrape the remnants of the bulb together and plant them back into the triangular hole that the porcupine digs, and then cover it all up with the
excavated sand.

The moral of the story is that the cage still sits at the CapeNature premises, I don’t have to pee in the fynbos and our Arum population has increased as on average, for each bulb that is removed by the nocturnal visitor, five to six new Arum plants are propagated.
John Carroll, Betty’s Bay


A Prickly Story

Putting a fine point on it!

The article ‘Disas of the fynbos’ in Veld & Flora 97(1), 6-7 states that ‘All orchids in the Western Cape are terrestrial ...’ Perhaps it depends where one draws the geographical boundaries, (and how one defines fynbos), but in my garden here in Knysna there are three endemic tree orchids, Mysticidium capense, Cyrtorchis arcuata and Angraecum c.f. chamaeanthus.
I would be surprised if they don`t occur further west.
Incidentally, in the same article, one wants to avoid simplistic translations from Afrikaans, e.g. `fyn = fine`. In the fynbos context I would prefer `delicate`. On my bumper sticker `Fynbos/Fyn mense` in the second sense I prefer `refined`, as I`m sure was intended. One of our classic mistranslations refers to Pterocelastrus which are most often called Candlewoods in English, but `kersie` can be both candle and cherry. I am reasonably sure the tree was named (like so many others) for its wood, which is similar to the European Cherry Wood.
Chris Gow, via email
Disas of the Fynbos

Deaths on the Cape Peninsula

If you live in the Western Cape and appreciate healthy fynbos, the future looks worrying. I have kept rainfall records on the south Peninsula for the last 15 years, and last winter was the second driest on record, being 30% below average. The summer that followed was the driest on record, being 50% below average (whilst most of the summer rainfall areas were flooded courtesy of La Nina). Not only was there a serious lack of rain, but it was also one of the windiest summers I can remember, and we all know that hot, dry windy days cause things to dry out faster than on windless days, so plants have been particularly stressed.
Since February this year I have observed large scale plant death in the south Peninsula, right across the geographic, habitat and taxonomic spectrum. Plants are literally dying left, right and centre. If it had impacted on just a few closely related species, or just on one small area one might suspect that a pathogen was to blame, but this is too widespread. It’s not the same everywhere – some areas look OK, but otherwise similar habitats nearby have been hard hit. Wetlands, rocky outcrops, deep acid sands, south slopes, north slopes and coastal Strandveld communities all show the signs – dead plants, in large numbers. In some cases 75% of all perennial plants in a 100 m2 area are dead. Significant mortality has been noted in the Erica, Passerina, Chrysanthemoides, Olea, Elegia, Thamnochortus, Cliffortia, Euclea, Agathosma, Leucadendron and Metalasia genera. Aspalathus, Diastella, Coleonema, Diosma and Phylica seem more resilient.
It would appear that we are looking at the ugly face of climate change. If you’re one of those climate change sceptics I suppose you’d just say this is a natural drought period, but the scale and unprecedented nature of the change seems to suggest that something else is at play here. The Western Cape is predicted to be hit harder by climate change than any other region in the country, and the trends we are seeing all fit the projections – shorter, drier winters; longer, hotter and drier summers; and stronger winds, especially in summer. Not all areas within the region will be impacted equally. From my basic observations in the last few months it seems as if the south Peninsula has been particularly badly affected (possibly due to the notoriously strong and relentless winds we’ve had to endure), and if the trend continues we could see dramatic shifts in vegetation patterns and species abundance. Many already rare species could be rapidly driven to extinction, especially if you combine the above with artificially increased fire frequencies (which is likely).
Now would appear to be a good time to be a bulb or an annual, or perhaps a succulent.
Nick Helme, Scarborough


ABOVE: View of drought affected coastal thicket (Strandveld) near Kommetjie, showing dead plants of Cliffortia obcordata in foreground, with Wyfieriet (Thamnochortus erectus) on
its last legs. Dead Thicket elements in background.
ABOVE: Close-up of dead Dune Olive (Olea exasperata) and Bastard Ironwood (Olea capensis subsp. capensis). In some areas even large Guarries (Euclea racemosa) plants that must be at least 50 years old, are dead. Photos: Nick Helme.