Where Soil Meets Salt

The freshwater ponds, sloughs, and prairies of the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge may be its most popular attractions, but its easily accessible mudflats hold treasures of their own.

Rich in food, they attract a variety of creatures. In the photo above, fresh tracks of feral hogs cross those of deer, coyotes, raccoons, and birds. Occasionally, leftovers from their meals lie scattered about, like this sun-bleached crab claw.

Occasionally, a living crab appears: I watched what appeared to be a juvenile land crab (Cardisoma guanhumi) for some time, perplexed and amused to see it blowing bubbles. Later, I learned the reason for the bubbles; they occur when a crab that lives both on land and in water breathes air.

All crabs have gills, located beneath the top shell, near the front. For their gills to work properly, eliminating carbon dioxide and bringing in fresh oxygen, the gills need to be wet. The crab draws in water or air with little ‘paddles’ near its front claws, extracts the essential oxygen, then pushes the water or air past its gills and out through two holes, one on each side of its mouth.

Because its gills are wet, if it’s taken in air as well as water, the exhaled breath comes out in bubbles. Our children blow bubbles for fun; the crab blows bubbles to live.

Most plants found on the flats have succulent or semi-succulent leaves. The saltwort (Batis maritima) that threads its way across the flats is a halophyte: a salt-tolerant plant that thrives in soil or waters of high salinity. I’ve yet to see its tiny white flowers; perhaps this will be the year.

Saltwort

Another interesting and quite common plant on the flats is the Annual Seepweed (Suaeda linearis). Several Suaeda species grow in Texas, but they’re relatively easy to distinguish from one another by color, growth habits, or location.

Seepweed ~ pretty in its autumn pink

Although it tolerates tidal flooding and often is found in mud, Virginia (or American) Glasswort (Salicornia depressa) obviously tolerates drier conditions.  A member of the goosefoot family (Chenopodiaceae), it’s related to such garden vegetables as beets, Swiss chard, and spinach.  While it blooms in late spring, it begins to take on autumnal colors as the weather cools.

Once I tried photographing the plant with backlighting, the name ‘glasswort’ seemed particularly appropriate. In fact, the common name ‘glasswort’ first appeared in the 16th century; it described English plants whose ashes could be used for making soda-based glass.

Virginia Glasswort taking on autumn colors

Nature as ‘glassmaker’

At the edge of the flats, I found an odd little ‘something’ that I assumed I’d never seen. In fact, I had encountered the plant, but at a different time in its life cycle.

These emerging leaves and fluff-surrounded seed pods belong to a native version of a familiar garden plant known as Moss Rose (Portulaca grandiflora). I’d come across the flowers of this smaller Pink Purslane (Portulaca pilosa)  in summer, but it took some research to associate its different stages. Here, too, the fleshy leaves are obvious; the Latin name, Portulaca, or ‘little gate,’ refers to a sort of ‘lid’ on the fruit capsule.

Portulaca pilosa in bloom

Pretty in bloom and even more colorful when bearing its red, berry-like fruit, Berlandier’s Wolfberry (Lycium berlandieri) seemed surprisingly prolific this year; I found great numbers distributed along the edges of the mud flats, in washes, or in areas of dry, gravelly soil. Wolfberry flowers appeal to a wide variety of insects, and its fruit is especially important for early-arriving Whooping Cranes.

Even fading flowers of the Wolfberry are attractive

Given its fruits’ color, Wolfberry sometimes is described as Christmas berry

TheSea Ox-eye or Seaside Tansy (Borrichia frutescens ) is an easily recognized and common plant along the flats and salt marshes. A member of the Aster family, it’s remarkably salt-tolerant, as is our Firewheel (Gaillardia pulchella). A summer bloomer, it sometimes flowers even in January, and its seed heads will persist throughout the winter.

Seaside Tansy seed heads

Despite its somewhat over-the-top scientific name, the Camphor Daisy (Rayjacksonia phyllocephala) is the Crow Poison of the mud flats; however, scraggly, it can be found blooming in every month. It’s so beloved by insects it deserves its own post; when nothing else is abloom, this daisy provides pollen and nectar galore.

When I was a child heading out to play, my mother always reminded me to “stay out of the mud.” Every time I throw my mud-caked jeans and shirts into the laundry, I remember that advice and smile. Clearly, she was focused on the practical advantages of avoiding mud; I’ve come to prefer the pleasures of a muddy afternoon.

 

Comments always are welcome.

A Beautiful — and Useful — Bean

Pink fuzzybean ~ Strophostyles umbellata

Only three species are included in the genus Strophostyles, and all three are found in Texas. Popularly known as fuzzybeans because of the texture of their seed pods, they can be difficult to distinguish from one another, particularly since their flowers are similar.

One  way is to note differences in their leaves and bracts. The amberique-bean, sometimes called the sand or trailing fuzzybean (S. helvola) and the slickseed or small-flower fuzzybean (S. leiosperma) have bracts at the base of the flowers that tend to be acute, while those of the pink, or trailing, fuzzybean (S. umbellata) are more blunt.

I found this pair of what I believe to be pink fuzzybeans near the entrance to the Big Thicket’s Solo Tract on September 6. Despite their small size, their shape and color attracted my attention. Only later did I learn that the Houma people of Louisiana made a decoction of the seeds to treat typhoid, and the Iroquois used the leaves to treat poison ivy rashes. I’m not worried about typhoid, but given my limited ability to spot poison ivy in the wild, a fuzzybean poultice might be as useful as the flower is beautiful.

 

Comments always are welcome.

A Little Spot of Sunshine

During a visit to the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge on September 29, 2019, I noticed a ditch filled with pretty yellow flowers. The colony was perhaps twenty feet long, and the low-growing plants held one bloom per stem. Less than an inch across, the combination of tiny ray flowers and conical disk flowers was cute as could be; the disk flowers reminded me of the radar domes found on boats.

As sometimes happens, it took time to identify the plant. It wasn’t until this fall that I recognized it as Opposite-leaf Spotflower. First named Anthemis repens by Walter Thomas in Flora Caroliniana in 1788, today it’s listed as Acmella oppositifolia (Lam.) R.K. Jansen var. repens or more simply as Acmella repens.

In the southern United States, Opposite-Leaf Spotflower grows on river banks, along pond edges, and in wet ditches. Its ability to survive occasional saltwater inundation no doubt helps it to thrive in Brazoria County, where I’ve now discovered it in every refuge, as well as in occasional country ditches.

As for identification, it was technology to the rescue. The only one of my field guides that mentions the plant is Ajilvsgi’s Wildflowers of Texas — where it’s called Creeping Spotflower — but I missed finding it there, and various keyword searches online didn’t turn it up. I tucked its photo into the “Unidentified Plants” file on my computer, where it lingered for months.

Then, after downloading the app called Picture This to my first iPhone, I decided to try taking a photo of the flower: not from its natural location, but from my computer file. Within seconds I had a name, and in only a minute or two more I’d found its image and details on a multitude of sites. It was a delicious irony. My pretty yellow phone — which I’ve named ‘Sunshine’ — had allowed me to spot the pretty yellow Spotflower at last.

 

Comments always are welcome.

No Brook, but a Brookweed

The distribution of this tiny flower  — Limewater Brookweed, known scientifically as Samolus ebracteatus — is interesting. It can be found in every Texas coastal county save one, but after skipping a good bit of territory, it also appears in central Texas and the hill country before making its way west into a bit of New Mexico, where it’s sometimes known as Mojave Water Pimpernel.

The plant’s willingness to grow near springs and intermittent rivers in desert areas, as well as in the wetlands and salt marshes of coastal Texas, makes clear that Brookweed doesn’t require a brook in order to thrive.

Its flowers, measuring no more than a quarter-inch to a half-inch wide, appear on short stalks arrayed along a long wand. They mature from the base upward; as the season progresses, the plant continues to produce new blooms while fruits mature from the older flowers and release seeds.

The flowers of this in the Primulaceae (the Primrose family) attract the Southern Carpenter Bee, hoverflies, and butterflies. When I found this example at the Kelly Hamby Nature Trail in Brazoria County, other Brookweeds were being visited by an assortment of Sulphurs.

 

Comments always are welcome.

White Delights: Pinewoods Rose Gentian

 

While exceptions certainly exist, most flowers in the Gentian family range from light pinks to a deeper, rosier hue. The specific epithet of the Pinewoods Rose Gentian, Sabatia gentianoides, means ‘resembling a gentian,’ suggesting that range of pinkish colors.  (The genus name honors Liberato Sabbati (1714-1778), an Italian botanist and gardener.) 

When I noticed this striking white flower in a wet area of the Big Thicket’s Sundew Trail, I thought I might have found Sabatia brevifolia, a white Sabatia species found in Florida and adjacent states. Despite both plants’ preference for boggy areas or wet pine savannahs, a closer look revealed some differences: eight petals for S. gentianoides rather than S. brevifolia‘s five, and noticeably larger flowers.

Unlike Sabatia campestris, the meadow pink common in coastal and central Texas, S. gentianoides displays flowers two or more inches wide, with seven to twelve petals. When the blooms cluster together, as they often do, they can be particularly appealing.

White forms of the meadow pink aren’t particularly common, but I have encountered them. Despite an extensive online search for a white form of the pinewoods rose gentian, I’ve yet to find a photo of another. I’m glad I found this one, tucked away in its bog.

 

Comments always are welcome.