Chapter XIII: Part VI: Flowers (2)

If you keep on the lookout, you are likely to come across one of these yellow flowers with the sleepy pink moth inside its cup. I have caught this little fellow napping so often, that I have wondered if the nectar of the evening primrose might not have the effect of a sleeping potion. But after all, I suppose that pretty pink moths, like boys and girls, are likely to be dull and sleepy in the daytime if they have been up too late the night before.

HORRID HABITS

Did you ever know that some plants manage to attract insects in ways that are quite disgusting to us human beings?

While spending a morning in the woods, some of you may have noticed an odor so unpleasant that you were driven to find another resting place.

Perhaps you thought that this unpleasant smell was caused by the decaying body of some dead animal; but had you known the truth, you would have laid the blame where it rightly belonged.

And where was that, do you think?

Why, to that beautiful climbing plant close by, with large, thick leaves, and clusters of pale, greenish flowers, that were twisting all about the bushes. This plant it was that caused all the disturbance. It is called the “carrion vine” on account of the carrionlike odor of its flowers. Its pollen is carried from one little blossom to another by tiny flies, drawn to the spot by a smell like that of decaying flesh. These flies would pass carelessly over the sweet-smelling carpet of the partridge vine, they would scorn the invitation of the evening primrose; but the odor which drives us hurriedly from our cozy corner induces them to gather together in hundreds. Whether they come, actually expecting to find decaying flesh, I cannot say.

In some countries grows a plant which not only smells like decaying flesh, but which adds to the deception by its red, beefy look, thus doubly attracting the flies which like this sort of food.

THE STORY OF THE STRAWBERRY

In the wood which edges the meadow is a hollow where it is almost sure to be cool and shady. Let us find our way there this morning, and see how we can amuse ourselves.

At first we want only to enjoy the wind which is coming through the trees, or to lie back on the grass and spy out the bird which is singing overhead, or else to laugh at the red squirrel which is scolding away at a great rate above us.

Suddenly our eyes fall on a cluster of ripe, shining wild strawberries. Bird and squirrel are forgotten, for no fruit of all the year is prettier to look at than the wild strawberry; and, what is more important, no other fruit has such a delicious flavor of the woods and fields.

Soon we have eaten all the berries within reach. The creeping vines lead us out into the meadow, where we push aside the long grasses and pick one ripe mouthful after another. At last we are satisfied to go back to our shady nook.

The little white blossoms that a few weeks ago were so plentiful have nearly all disappeared. Who among you can tell me how these juicy berries have managed to take the place of the blossoms?

Why, ever so many of you can tell me much of the story, at any rate. It is very nearly that of the apple and cherry and plum and pear. The nectar-hunting bee carried the pollen of its many stamens from one strawberry blossom to another, leaving some of it on the flat tips of its numerous pistils. Down the pistils’ stalks went the tiny life bearing tubes which pushed their way into the little seeds below.

So far, the story of the strawberry is not new to us; but just here it begins to differ from the stories of the apple and pear, of the plum and peach and cherry. The flowers of all these trees had but one seedbox. But each of the many little strawberry pistils has a separate seedbox; and when the little seeds within get their touch of new life, the flat, cushionlike object (Fig. 241) which bears these many pistils begins to act in a most surprising manner.

This flat flower cushion swells upward and outward (Fig. 242), growing big and juicy and sweet, bearing its pistils (Fig. 243) with it.

And so in the strawberry blossom it is the flat cushion hidden out of sight which grows into the delicious fruit.

A COUSIN OF THE STRAWBERRY

The strawberry is a member of the great Rose family. Among its many cousins we find the blackberry and the raspberry.

The blackberry blossom (Fig. 245) also has five white leaves, and a center made up of pistils and stamens.

When its white flower leaves fall, and its empty dust boxes wither, we see the blackberry begin to take the place of the blossom, just as we saw the strawberry take the place of the strawberry blossom (Fig. 246).

But now we are about to discover the way in which the blackberry differs from the strawberry.

Cannot some boy or girl tell me in what way they are different?

“One is black, and the other is red.”

But that is not the answer I want. Perhaps it is hardly likely that any child could guess what I have in mind. Still a little exercise in guessing is as good for your brains as gymnastics are good for your bodies.

Now I will tell you what this difference is; and I want you to try and understand it clearly, so that you will be able to explain it to others, for I doubt if the grown-up people could give any better answers than you. I think your fathers and mothers will be both surprised and pleased when you show them some summer day how truly different are these two berries.

You remember that in the strawberry we saw plainly that it was the flat flower cushion which swelled into the ripe strawberry,—the cushion which was quite hidden by the many pistils; and though these pistils were scattered thickly all over the ripe, red fruit, these little pistils with their seedboxes were too small and dry to add flavor or richness to the berry.

But if we watch the growth of this blackberry, we see that things are different.

We see that the pistils of this fruit do not remain small and dry, as with the strawberry. No, indeed! their little seedboxes grow bigger and juicier every day, and they turn from green to red and from red to black. They do not remain hard to the touch, but become so soft that a slight pressure will bruise them and stain your fingers purple. And we enjoy eating the full-grown blackberry (Fig. 249) because a quantity of these juicy seedboxes are so packed upon the juicy flower cushion that together they make a delicious mouthful (Figs. 247, 248).

The flower cushion of the blackberry is long and narrow, not broad and flat like that of the strawberry.

So do not forget that in the strawberry we enjoy eating the ripened flower cushion, while in the blackberry the juicy seedboxes give to the fruit more of its size and flavor than does the flower cushion.

ANOTHER COUSIN

Here we see a branch from the raspberry bush (Fig. 250). How is the raspberry unlike both strawberry and blackberry? Let us place side by side these three berries (Figs. 251, 252, 253).

Once more we observe that the strawberry is the flat flower cushion grown big and juicy.

Again we see that the seedboxes of the blackberry packed upon the swollen flower cushion make up much of the fruit.

But in the raspberry we find that the red, ripe seedboxes alone make the berry which is so good to eat.

When we pick this raspberry, we find that the flower cushion remains upon the plant, instead of coming off in our fingers and helping to make a luscious morsel, as with the other two fruits (Figs. 254, 255).

I hope you will remember how these three berries differ one from another.

Why the blossoms of these three plants grow into berries in three different ways, we do not know; but our time has been well spent if we remember that they do change in these three ways.

The more we see and question and learn, the more pleasure we shall find in our own lives, and the better able we shall be to make life pleasant for others.

PEA BLOSSOMS AND PEAS

The Pea family is a large one, and it is worth our while to find out what plan it uses in flower building.

Let us look at a pea blossom and see of what parts it is made up.

“There is the green cup, or calyx,” you say.

Yes, that is plain enough. It is cut up into five little leaves.

“And there is a circle of flower leaves, which makes the corolla.”

Let us pull apart both calyx and corolla, and place the separate leaves as in the picture (Fig. 256).

The five smaller leaves, the ones marked _ca_, are the green of the calyx.

The five larger ones, marked _co_, belong to the corolla. These, you notice, are not all alike. The upper one is much the largest.

The two side ones are alike.

In the real flower the two lower ones are joined so as to form a little pocket.

And what else do you find?

Now, if you do not pull apart the pea blossom, you find nothing else. But you know that the seed-holding fruit is the object of the flower’s life, and that so this flower is pretty sure to have somewhere either a pistil with its seedbox, or stamens with their dust boxes, or both; for without the seeds of the seedbox, and the pollen of the dust boxes, no fruit can result.

So, knowing that the pea blossom cannot give birth to a pea pod without stamens and pistil, let us have a search for these.

As I told you, the two lower leaves of the corolla are joined so as to form a sort of pocket (Fig. 257). Now, surely, a pocket is meant to hold something. So take a pin and slit open this pocket. As the two sides spring apart, out flies some golden pollen, and we see that the little pocket is far from empty. It holds ten stamens and one pistil.

If you look at these carefully (Fig. 256), you see that one stamen stands alone, while the other nine have grown together, forming a tube which is slit down one side. This tube clings to the lower part of the pistil.

Now, if you pull this tube away, what do you see?

You see a little, green, oblong object, do you not (Fig. 258)?

And what is it? Do you not recognize it?

Why, it is a baby pea pod. Within it lie the tiny green seeds (Fig. 259) which are only waiting for the fresh touch of life from a pollen grain to grow bigger and bigger till they become the full-grown seeds of the pea plant,—the peas that we find so good to eat when they are cooked for dinner.

So, after all, the building plan of the pea blossom is nothing but the old-fashioned one which reads

1. Calyx.
2. Corolla.
3. Stamens.
4. Pistil.

Had I not told you to do so, I wonder if you would have been bright enough to pull apart the little pocket and discover the stamens and pistil.

What do you think about this?

THE CLOVER’S TRICK

Here you see the bees buzzing about the pretty pink clover heads,—the sweet-smelling clover that grows so thickly in the fields of early summer.

Can you tell me what plan the clover uses in flower building?

You will not find this easy to do. Indeed, it is hardly possible, for the clover plays you a trick which you will not be able to discover without help.

You believe, do you not, that you are looking at a single flower when you look at a clover head?

Well, you are doing nothing of the sort. You are looking at a great many little clover flowers which are so closely packed that they make the pink, sweet-scented ball which we have been taught to call the clover blossom.

It is incorrect to speak of so many flowers as one; and whenever we say, “This is a clover blossom,” really we ought to say, “These are clover blossoms.” We might just as well take a lock of hair—a lock made up of ever so many hairs—and say, “This is a hair.” Now, you all know it would not be correct to do this, and no more is it correct to call a bunch of clover blossoms “a blossom.” But as most people do not understand this, undoubtedly the mistake will continue to be made.

Fig. 260 shows you one little flower taken out of the ball-like clover head.

Can you think of any good reason why so many of these little flowers should be crowded together in a head?

What would happen if each little blossom grew quite alone?

Why, it would look so small that the bee could hardly see it. And sweetly though the whole clover head smells, the fragrance of a single flower would be so slight that it would hardly serve as an invitation to step in for refreshments.

So it would seem that the clover plant does wisely in making one good-sized bunch out of many tiny flowers, for in this way the bees are persuaded to carry their pollen from one blossom to another.

The moral of the clover story is this: Be very careful before you insist that you hold in your hand or see in the picture only one flower.

MORE TRICKS

Can you think of any other flowers that deceive us as the clover does?

Early in May we see in the woods a tree that is very beautiful. It is covered with what seem to be white blossoms. This tree is the flowering dogwood, and it tricks us somewhat in the same way as does the clover; for in this picture (Fig. 261) you see what nearly every one believes to be a single flower of the dogwood. And if some time ago you had been asked to give the building plan of the dogwood flower, you would have been pretty sure to say that the four large white leaves formed its corolla.

Here you would have been quite mistaken; for instead of one large flower, the picture shows you a number of tiny blossoms, so closely packed, and so surrounded by the four white leaves, that they look like only one blossom.

Try to get a branch from the dogwood tree (only be sure to break it off where it will not be missed), and pull apart what looks so much like one large flower.

First pull off the four white leaves. Then you will have left a bunch of tiny greenish blossoms. Look at one of these through a magnifying glass. If eyes and glass are both good, you will see a very small calyx, a corolla made up of four little flower leaves, four mites of stamens, and a tiny pistil,—a perfect little flower where you never would have guessed it.

But all by themselves they would never be noticed: so a number of them club together, surrounding themselves with the showy leaves which light up our spring woods.

In Fig. 262 you see the flower cluster of the hobblebush.

The hobblebush has still another way of attracting attention to its blossoms. It surrounds a cluster of those flowers which have stamens and pistils, and so are ready to do their proper work in the world, with a few large blossoms which have neither stamens nor pistils, but which are made up chiefly of a showy white corolla. These striking blossoms serve to call attention to their smaller but more useful sisters.

Sometimes a whole plant family will play this trick of putting a quantity of flowers in one bunch or cluster.

The wild carrot (Fig. 263) is one of our commonest wayside weeds, a torment to the farmer, but a beautiful plant nevertheless. Each one of its lace-like flower clusters is made up of many flowers,—flowers which are too small to live alone, and so have decided to keep house together.

You will notice that here, as with the hobblebush, the outer flowers are large and more showy than the inner ones. They seem to feel that with them rests the reputation of the family; that they must make the most of themselves, and do all in their power to attract the bees and butterflies.

The wild carrot belongs to the Parsley family. All the members of this family collect a great many little flowers into one fairly large cluster.

AN OLD FRIEND

There is one plant (Fig. 264) which you city children ought to know almost as well as the country children. In the back yards and in the little squares of grass which front the street, it sends up its shining stars; and as for the parks, they look as if some generous fairy had scattered gold coins all over their green lawns.

Now, what is this flower which is not too shy to bring its brightness and beauty into the very heart of the crowded city?

It is the dandelion, of course. You all know, or ought to know, this plucky little plant, which holds up its smiling face wherever it gets a chance.

And now, I am sure, you will be surprised to learn that this dandelion, which you have known and played with all your lives, is among those mischievous flowers which are laughing at you in their sleeves, and that regularly it has played you its “April fool;” for, like the dogwood and the clover, this so-called dandelion is not a single flower.

No, what you call a dandelion is a bunch made up of a great many tiny blossoms.

If you pull to pieces a dandelion head, you will find a quantity of little yellow straps. Each little strap is a perfect flower.

Now, if you had been asked for the building plan of the dandelion, you would have looked for the calyx, and you would have thought you had found it in the green cup which holds the yellow straps.

And when you were looking for the corolla, perhaps you would have said, “Well, all these yellow things must be the flower leaves of the corolla.”

But when you began your hunt for stamens and pistils, you would have been badly puzzled; and no wonder, for these are hidden away inside the yellow straps, the tiny flowers of the dandelion.

So remember that when you cannot find the stamens and pistils within what you take to be the single flower, you will do well to stop and ask yourself, “Can this be one of the plants which plays tricks, and puts a lot of little flowers together in such a way as to make us think that they are one big flower?”

THE LARGEST PLANT FAMILY IN THE WORLD

The dandelion belongs to the largest plant family in the world. All the members of this family have the dandelion trick of bunching together a quantity of little flowers. From this habit the family takes its name. It is called the “Composite” family, because with it, that which looks like one flower is composed of many flowers.

To this great family belong some of the flowers which you know best; and if you are not to be fooled again and again, you must learn to tell by its blossoms whether a plant is a member of the Composite family. This will not be difficult if you will be patient, and pull to pieces a few of the flower heads which I am going to describe, and examine carefully the building plan used by the separate flowers.

Fig. 265 shows you the field daisy. This pretty flower is an old friend; and many of you know that its beauty is no comfort to the farmer, who finds it a sign of poor soil and a nuisance, and does his best to get rid of it.

As you know, the central part of the daisy is bright yellow, and the narrow leaves which stand out in a circle around its yellow center are pure white.

Now, if I had asked you some time ago for the building plan of the daisy, I think you would have told me that the arrangement of little green leaves underneath the flower head made up the calyx, and naturally you would have believed the white leaves above to have formed the corolla; and the chances are that the yellow center would have seemed to be a quantity of stamens. As for the seed holders, you might have said, “Oh, well! I suppose they are hidden away somewhere among all these stamens.”

It would not have been at all strange or stupid if you had answered my question in this way.

I know of no plant which dresses up its flowers more cleverly, and cheats the public more successfully, than this innocent-looking daisy; for not only does it deceive boys and girls, but many of the grown-up people who love flowers, and who think they know something about them, never guess how they have been fooled the daisy. Indeed, some of them will hardly believe you when you tell them that when they pick what they call a daisy, they pick not one, but a great many flowers; and they are still more surprised when they learn that not only the yellow center of the daisy is composed of a quantity of little tube-shaped blossoms, but that what they take to be a circle of narrow white flower leaves is really a circle of flowers, each white strap being a separate blossom.

I dare not try to tell you how many separate blossoms you would find if you picked to pieces a daisy and counted all its flowers,—all the yellow ones in the center, and all the white outside ones,—but you would find a surprisingly large number.

The picture above (Fig. 266) shows you a daisy cut in two, and next you have one of the white outer flowers (Fig. 267). This flower, as we must call it, has a pistil, but no stamens. The pollen is brought by flies from the yellow central flowers to this pistil.

Here (Fig. 268) you see a picture of one of those yellow flowers which have both stamens and pistil inside its tube.

If you children once make yourselves well acquainted with the make-up of the daisy, seeing with your own bright eyes (not believing it just because I tell you it is so) that there are many little flowers where most people think they see only one big one, you will never forget it as long as you live; and you will know something that many of the big people about you do not know. Some day while walking across the fields I think you will enjoy surprising them by pulling to pieces a daisy, and explaining to them this favorite flower trick.

ROBIN’S PLANTAIN, GOLDEN-ROD, AND ASTER

Along the roadsides, in the month of May, grows a flower which you children call a blue daisy. This has the yellow center of the field daisy; but the narrow outer flowers which surround the yellow center are not white, they are blue.

The real name of this flower is “robin’s plantain.” It is not a daisy, though it belongs to the same big family. Here, too, the yellow center is made up of many little tube-shaped flowers.

Later in the year the fields are white and purple with beautiful asters (Fig. 269). It is easy to see that these asters are own cousins to robin’s plantain. Their flower heads are put together in the same way, and many of the asters wear the same blue or purple dress (Fig. 269).

When once you have become acquainted with the secret of dandelion and daisy and aster and robin’s plantain, you will find it quite easy to discover their little separate flowers. All these plants have large, plain flower heads that you cannot mistake.

But with some members of this great Composite family you are going to have more trouble, unless you take your time and keep your wits about you.

Just when the asters begin to border the roadsides in the month of August, the golden-rod (Fig. 270) hangs out its bright yellow flowers. This golden-rod is one of the plants which you may find a little troublesome; for its little flowers are so tiny, that even when a number of them are fastened together in a bunch, the whole bunch looks like a very small blossom (Fig. 271).

In each of these little bunches or heads (for when a number of flowers are packed together in this way, we call the whole bunch a “head”) there are a few of the strap flowers (Fig. 272) on the outside, and a few tube flowers (Fig. 273) in the center; but the outer strap flowers are so small that you can hardly believe they are really flowers, and the tube flowers look hardly larger than ordinary stamens. To see them at all clearly, you must use a good magnifying glass.

And you must search very patiently for the tiny bunch (Fig. 271) which is the head of the golden-rod. Next you must pick to pieces this little head, separating the outer from the inner flowers.

In hunting for a single head in this great yellow flower cluster, you must look for the little cup-like arrangement, the tiny greenish or yellowish leaves; for each head is held in one of these small cups.

Although the golden-rod is one of the most difficult of all the flowers to understand, once you have seen for yourselves how each little head is held in its tiny cup, you will find it easy enough to pick out its single flowers, and then you will have mastered the secret of the golden-rod.

THE LAST OF THE FLOWERS

We found, you remember, that the dandelion head was made up entirely of strap flowers; and we saw that the daisy and aster and golden-rod were made up partly of strap flowers, and partly of tube flowers.

And here you have a great thistle head (Fig. 274). If you should pull it to pieces, you would find only tube flowers.

The Composite family always makes up its head in one of these three ways, using either nothing but strap flowers, or nothing but tube flowers, or else using tube flowers for the center of the head, and strap flowers for the outside.

Now, I hope you will remember these three ways in which this important family puts together its little flowers.

When you go into the garden where a big sunflower (Fig. 275) is trying to peep into your neighbor’s yard, I hope your eyes will be sharp enough to see that this sunflower is a cousin to the field daisy, and that, although its brown center is much larger than the daisy’s golden eyes, it is made up of tube flowers (Fig. 276) shaped much like the tube flowers of the daisy.

And you will notice, I am sure, that the yellow circle about this brown center is made up of strap flowers (Fig. 277) just like the circle about the daisy center.

And what is that which falls like a golden shower from the great brown center of the sunflower? Ah, you know well that that is the precious pollen which powders thickly the visiting bees and butterflies, and goes to make new sunflower plants.

The picture at the head of this chapter shows the wild sister of the garden sunflower.

When you come across the bright blue flower of the chicory, you will be reminded, I hope, of your dear old friend the dandelion; for the chicory head, like that of the dandelion, is made up entirely of strap flowers.

But when you pick a spray of everlasting, whose white and yellow clusters you find on the rocky hillsides, you will have to use your eyes with great care if you are to discover that here, as in the great purple thistle head, are nothing but tube flowers.