George Elliot - The Romance of Plant Life

How then was the pollen of the first flowers carried?

It was in all probability blown by the wind or carried in water. Even now poplars, alders, birches, and oaks rely chiefly upon the wind to carry their pollen. These plants were amongst the first of our modern flora to appear upon the earth. Some of them possess very neat contrivances suited to the wind. The catkins of the alder, for example, hang downwards, so that each little male flower is protected from rain by a little scale or bract above it. The pollen is very light, dusty, or powdery, so as to fly a long distance. The Scotch fir ( Pinus sylvestris ) has male flowers in little cones. These are upright, and the pollen of each stamen drops on to a small hollow on the top of the stamen below. It is then blown away by the wind on a fine dry day, but it is not allowed to get out in wet weather. It is said that vast clouds of pine pollen occur in America, and that the water of certain lakes becomes quite yellow and discoloured by it at certain seasons. Each little particle of pollen has two minute caps or air-balloons which give it buoyancy, so that it can float easily immense distances.

A curious little herb, the Wall Pellitory, and another foreign species, the Artillery plant, produces small explosions of pollen. When it is touched, there is a little puff or cloud of dusty pollen. Even the common Nettle does the same on fine dry days when it is in full flower.

But of course this carrying of pollen by the wind is a very expensive arrangement. It is so much a matter of pure chance that a grain arrives at its right destination. Suppose that a flower is giving out clouds of pollen, then the chance of a pollen grain reaching a female flower only five feet away is very small, even if the stigma of the female flower is a quarter of an inch in diameter. The chance of pollen reaching it will only be about 1 to 1440; 1439 pollen grains will be wasted 26for every one that reaches the stigma. But even this is not quite a fair calculation, for if the female flower is not down wind, none will reach it at all!

But if an insect goes to the catkin of an alder or any other male flower, it will see the red points of the stigma and will very likely go there at once. This shows how much more reasonable and efficient insects will be.

The immense majority of flowers are, in fact, purple, blue, red, yellow, or white, so that they are conspicuous, and stand clearly out against the green of their leaves. It is well known to all who have arranged flowers for the table that the green of the leaves of different plants varies greatly in its shade and tint. Many greens do not match special flowers at all, but it is the fact that the green of any one plant is always quite harmonious, and agrees well with its own flowers!

Besides varied and beautiful colours, sweet or strong scents and supplies of honey or nectar are provided for insects.

How did flowers manage to produce all these attractions? No one has answered that question. We know in a general sort of way that the parts of flowers are modified leaves, and that petals and stamens become yellowish or pure white because they do not form green colouring matter like ordinary leaves.

It is also known that on the Alps or on any high mountain, where the air is pure and the sun strong, flowers become rich, brilliant, and vivid. In such places as the "Jardin" near Mont Blanc, the pure, deep, rich blue of gentians, the crimsons, reds, and purples of other flowers, impress the most casual and unobservant traveller. "White and red, yellow and blue, brown and green stand side by side on a hand's breadth of space." In that strong mountain air, also, perfumes are stronger, purer, and of finer quality than in the lowlands. There is a more intense, active, and vigorous life going on in flowers than is required by the more prosaic industries in other parts of a plant. Flowers also often live at a higher temperature than the surrounding air.

Kerner has described how the little flowers of Soldanella penetrate the snow by actually melting a passage for themselves through it (see p. 103).

This high temperature and vigorous life, shown also by the rapid transpiration of flowers, 27seems to hint that colours and perfumes appear in consequence of rapid chemical transformations. 28

It was, of course, by degrees that the extraordinary variation in colour, which exists in nature, came about. No doubt bees, bumble-bees, wasps, and the more intelligent flies were improved and developed æsthetically. We can almost tell by looking at a flower what sort of insect probably visits it.

Not only so, but there are the neatest imaginable contrasts and blends of colour. The common Bluebeard Salvia, e.g., has the uppermost leaves (three-quarters to an inch long) of a deep, rich, blue-purple, which the roving Bumble-bee will see from a long way off. The Bumble-bee flies to this great splash of her favourite hue and for a second buzzes angrily, then she notes the small bright-blue patches on the upper lips of the small flowers below the leaves which are set off by white hairs of the upper and yellow hairs of the lower lip.

That bees really do understand and are guided by colour may be gathered from the following unfortunate accident. A certain hive of bees which had been brought up in a blue-striped skep became accidentally scattered. They tried to find their way back to their old home, but many strayed, and it was noticed that they had tried to enter the doors of every blue hive, which were strewn with the bodies of the unfortunate intruders. 29

The rich blue-purple of Aconite, the dark strong red of the Woundwort ( Stachys silvatica ) are specially beloved by bumble-bees and hive-bees. Butterflies like any bright colour. Those flies which have a long, sucking proboscis, resemble the bees in their tastes, but all these insects are quite capable of finding out where they can get honey most easily, and visit flowers whatever the colour may be.

A very strange and wonderful fact is that quite a number of plants prefer the dark, or rather the dim, mysterious light of the gloaming. Then the Honeysuckle, the Evening Campion, the Night-scented Stock, Tobacco, and Schizopetalon give out their strongest scent and open out their white flowers as widely as possible. That is because they wish to attract the owlet moth and others which come out at this time, when there are fewer enemies and more security. If you look at any of these moth-flowers at mid-day, they are for the most part closed up, they are not particularly attractive, and they are giving out very little scent. The contrast to their condition in the evening is most striking.

Not only insects but birds are used to carry pollen. The gorgeous little humming birds, with their brilliant metallic crimson, bronze-green, and purple, are of the greatest importance in the New World. In the Old World they are replaced by the tiny Nectarinidæ or Sunbirds, with breastplates almost as exquisitely jewelled. They prefer the most gorgeous reds and scarlets, such as that of Salvia horminum , Lobelia cardinalis , and the like. Fuchsias are regularly visited by them in Tierra del Fuego, where sometimes they may be seen busily at work during a shower of snow. In South Africa they seize the stem of a Redhot Poker ( Tritoma ) ( Kniphofia macowanii ), and twisting their little heads round, they suck the honey from every blossom in succession. Still more interesting it is to see them perched on the edge of one of those great tumbler-like heads of Protea (e.g. P. incompta ) and dipping their slender curved beaks repeatedly into the flowers. Then the little male bird will alight on a branch and make the most elaborate preparation for a song of triumph. Although helped out by fluttering of wings and much display of feathers and tail, the song is a very faint cheep of the feeblest description, and very difficult to hear.