George Elliot - The Romance of Plant Life

Another very remarkable case is that of those flowers (Stapelia, etc.), which in colour and general marking closely resemble decaying meat or other objectionable substances. Very often the smell of such flowers is exceedingly strong, and resembles the ordinary smell of putrid matter. In one case an artist employed to paint the flower had to use a glass bell, which was put over it. He could only lift it for a second or two at intervals in order to see the exact colour, before the horrible odour obliged him to cover it over again. Blowflies and others, which are in the habit of resorting to such substances, seek out these flowers in great numbers and lay their eggs upon them. In so doing they carry the pollen.

There are certain fungi which have quite as horrible a smell, and some of them also resemble decaying animal matter. These are most eagerly sought out by the same blow-and other flies (bright green lucilias, yellow-brown scatophagas, bluebottles, etc.). But in the case of these fungi it is the spores, not pollen, which is carried by the insect.

The effect of this flowery sort of life is abundantly evident in the structure of the insects themselves. Their mouth has been most wonderfully modified into a complex sucking apparatus; their legs have been transformed to act as pollen-carrying baskets, and the habits and tastes of the insects have been modified in the most extraordinary way.

Perhaps also the association of bright colours with a very pleasant sensation – that of a full, satisfying meal – has raised the artistic sensibilities of butterflies, sunbirds, humming birds, etc. For certainly these flower-haunting birds and butterflies are remarkable for their brilliant colouring. This has probably been brought about by the preference of the females for the most brilliantly coloured male butterflies and humming birds.

At any rate bright reds and blues are common to both bird or insect and to the flowers that they frequent. But the most curious point of this whole question lies in the fact that human beings of all grades, South Sea Islanders, the Ancient Greeks, Peruvians, Japanese, Romans, as well as the Parisians and Londoners of to-day, appreciate the beauty of colouring and grace of form which are so obvious in the world of flowers.

Yet man has had nothing whatever to do with the selection of either these colours or shapes. Many of those which he considers most precious (such as the weird, spotted, and outlandish Orchids of Madagascar and South America) have very likely scarcely ever been seen by man at all. It is to the artistic eye of the honey-bee, bumble-bee, butterfly, and of the humming bird and sunbird, that we owe these exquisite colours. The grace and beauty of outline probably depend upon their perfect symmetry and on the perfect suitability of every curve to its purpose.

Therefore it seems that the eyes of man, whether savage or civilized, are pleased and comforted by these same colours that delight the little brains of insects and birds.

This is indeed a mysterious fact.

Mother-earth – Quarries and Chalk-pits – Wandering atoms – The soil or dirt – Populations of Worms, Birds, Germs – Fairy Rings – Roots miles long – How roots find their way – How they do the right thing and seek only what is good for them – Root versus stones – Roots which haul bulbs about – Bishopsweed – Wild Garlic – Dandelion, Plantain – Solomon's Seal – Roots throwing down walls – Strength of a seedling root.

THE word "Adam" means red earth. Poets and essayists still regularly write about Mother-Earth and, in so doing, admit one of the most interesting and wonderful facts in Nature.

If you go to some quarry or cliff where a section has been cut, laying bare the original rock below; then (with Hugh Miller) you may reflect on the extraordinary value of those few inches of soil which support the growth of all our trees and of all our cultivated plants.

It is probable that plant-roots never go deeper than about thirty feet. All our food, our energy, and activity depend therefore on this thinnest surface-layer of an earth which is 8000 miles in diameter. But in most places the depth of true soil is far less than thirty feet, generally it is not more than thirty inches, and by far the most valuable part of it is a very thin layer five or six inches thick.

It is in this true soil that the roots gain their nourishment, and not only roots, for whole populations of worms, of germs, of insects, even of birds and the higher animals, live upon it. To it return the dead leaves, the bodies of dead insects, and waste products of all kinds. Within it, they are broken to pieces and worked up again by the roots of other plants in order to form new leaves, new insects, and food for bird and beast. Just as in engine-works, you may see old engines, wheels, and scrap-iron being smashed into pieces; they are melted down and again worked up into engines of some improved design.

On a chalk-cliff, which dates from the long-distant Cretaceous period, the entire thickness formed by the yearly work of plants for millions and millions of years is often less than a foot in depth, and probably only four to five inches are true soil.

But this is an exceptionally thin stratum, although it is capable of producing rich turf, fat snails, and excellent mutton. In peat-mosses and in those buried forests which form the coalfields, vegetable matter may accumulate in deposits of thirty feet of coal. Yet these stores of carbonaceous matter seem to be at first sight miserly and selfish, at least from a vegetable point of view.

They resemble the gold and silver withdrawn from circulation in the world by some Hindoo miser and buried deep within the earth. Yet somebody is pretty certain to find out and make use of such stores eventually.

In the case of the peat and coalfields, an animal of sufficient intelligence to utilize them has already been produced, and now they are used by man as fuel.

It is very important to remember that the soil is a sort of last home to which the particles of carbon, of nitrate, and minerals always return after their wanderings in the bodies of plants, of insects, or of other animals. They probably rest but a short time before they again set off on new adventures.

One might say the same of the water, and of the carbonic acid gas and oxygen of the atmosphere, for the water, falling as rain upon the earth, trickles down to the underground water-level. Then it immediately begins to rise up between the particles of earth and is promptly caught and sucked in by the roots, only to be again given out by their leaves. The carbonic acid gas and oxygen also are always entering and leaving the foliage. Even the nitrogen of the air is not left alone in the atmosphere. There are small germs in the soil which are able to get hold of it and make it into valuable nitrates.

More curious still is the fact that electric charges can be used to change the comparatively useless air-nitrogen into useful manures. Probably the farmer will some day make his own nitrates by electricity.

The structure of the soil or earth is a most interesting and romantic part of botany. It is true that a "radical" disposition is necessary if one is to go to the root of the matter, but, unless we do this, it is impossible to realize the romance of roots.

Down below is the unaltered rock, sand, or clay. Next above it comes the subsoil, which consists of fragments of the rock below, or of sand, clay, etc., more or less altered by deep-going roots. Even in this subsoil, bacteria or germs may be at work, and the burrows of worms and insects often extend to it. Next above the subsoil comes the true soil; there is plenty of the stones, soil, sand, or whatever it may be that constitutes the subsoil, but its richness consists in its contents of valuable minerals, and especially of broken-up leaves, corpses of insects, and manure. Above this true soil are first the leaf-mould of two years ago, then that of the year before last, and on the top is the leaf-mould and other decayed products of last winter.