Part 22

The Green Dragonwort and Jack-in-the-Pulpit were known, until recently, generically as Arum. Arisæma antedates Arum, referring to the red-blotched stalks of some species. Jack-in-the-Pulpit to-day is known in the science as Arisæma triphyllum. The origin of the name Jack-in-the-Pulpit is recent, and, like Indian Turnip, is purely of American origin. Clara Smith of Medford, Massachusetts, so christened these Dragonworts, in a poem which was sent to Whittier for revision. He published it in Child Life, about 1884, after amending and adding several lines. The poem became popular, and the flower was thereafter known as “Jack-in-the-Pulpit.”

Columbine was especially plentiful along the hillsides; and the hollows and crevices of rocks were filled with blade-like leaves, resembling Sweet Flag (Acorus Calamus). They proved, however, to be the leaves of the Blackberry Lily (Gemmingia Chinensis). This lily creeps from southern New York to Georgia. The seeds resemble blackberries. The plant produces several large blossoms in a terminal bracted cluster, of an orange color mottled with purple. This species was formerly known as Pardanthus, meaning a Leopard-Flower. The roots are of a golden color.

Returning from the Point of Rocks above Deer Park, I passed along lanes bordered with cedars and junipers, while violets, rosy-pinks and tufts of maiden-hair spleenwort clung to the ledges. On leaving the swamp below, I found a drowsy diamond snake in a stupor, from having recently swallowed a bird or frog. The diamond-shaped checks upon his skin betrayed his species. He is considered venomous, therefore I remained a safe distance from him.

On May 18th I again visited the Point of Rocks and McLean’s Woods, searching for Orchis spectabilis and for Cypripedium parviflorum. Leaving the car at Bedford Park, we struck westward, coming out near Poe Park, where still stands that quaint white cottage in which Poe wrote The Raven. We bore around the slopes, northward beyond the Racing Park, and entered a country lane, soon turning again to the left into the forest, where stood great pools of water. Along the sluggish stream grew many rare species of fern. Finally we entered Jerome Avenue, leading toward Yonkers.

We searched the borders of the roadside for that little two-leaved orchid, Twayblade (Leptorchis liliifolia), formerly known as Lily-leaved Liparis, which grows here in the moist woods. We were too early for it, however. We turned off into the deeper woods till we came to the tangled edges of McLean’s Swamp. Here, a little later, I collected pink azaleas and marsh marigolds, golden-ragwort,—known as the False Valerian (Senecio aureus),—white mustard, and water-cress,—also of the Mustard Family. Throughout these beautiful woods the Broad-Beech Fern (Phegopteris hexagonoptera) and the Oak Fern (Phegopteris Dryopteris) dwell. The Jack-in-the-Pulpit and Indian Cucumbers were here, towering above the False Lilies-of-the-Valley and Trillium; and among these vines the dainty golden-shoes of the Fragrant Cypripedium tripped forth like fairy’s foot-gear. The Indian Cucumber (Medeola Virginiana) is a strange plant belonging to the Lily-of-the-Valley Family. The root is tuberous, of a white, brittle substance, with a flavor like that of the garden cucumber. The leaves occur in two whorls along the slender stalk. About the middle of the stem there is a whorl of five to nine oblong-lanceolate leaves; above this another smaller whorl occurs, with three to five leaves; and still above this, all the small flowers nod toward the ground.

Medeola is an adaptation of Medea, the name of the daughter of King Æetes of Colchis, who aided Jason by her witchcraft, and was afterward deserted by him. This plant is supposed to possess magic properties as a medicine, and is thus used by the Indians and other superstitious folk.

Colonies of Brake and Clayton’s Fern grew in the hollows on the hill, and 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.

“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.

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. 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).” 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.