Spanish bayonet plants growing on the back side of a dune at Grayton Beach State Park. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
When you think of self-defense in the natural world, it’s normal to lean towards the animal kingdom. Between their intimidating teeth, claws, horns, and venom, animals can hold their own in a physical battle for dominance or survival.
But plants are no slouch in this department, either. In the book, “Wicked Plants: The Weed that Killed Lincoln’s Mother & Other Botanical Atrocities,” the author discusses no fewer than 200 plants with deadly poisonous properties. Many plants have also evolved spines and thorns, rash-inducing toxins, and thick bark or waxy coatings that keep disease, water, and anything attempting to feed on them out.
The sharp spines of yucca plants serve as self-defense, but can also be used for making tools. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
Yucca plants display several examples of vegetative self-defense. Even the common names of several Florida species; Adam’s needle, Spanish dagger, and Spanish bayonet, signal their obvious danger. They are native to deserts and desert-like conditions, including the dry, sandy dunes of Florida beaches. Dry habitats lend themselves to tough plants, as they adapt thick leaves to keep water in and needles or thorns to collect and condense water and ward off herbivores that might seek their stored water resources. Yucca are of course highly salt and drought tolerant, so they make great landscape plants for coastal properties.
Brown seed pods visible on a yucca plant in the fall. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
Spanish bayonet, one of several species common to Florida, is so intimidating that I regularly see homeowners plant it under windows as a burglary deterrent. Its leaves taper into a stiff and potentially painful point. If you look around online, there are numerous instructional videos and articles from survivalist or “bushcraft” enthusiasts explaining how to strip the leaves, leaving only the point and several fibers for a DIY needle and thread. This technique has been passed down for generations and is useful for building and repairing shelters or clothing. The tough filamentous fibers were used for weaving blankets and baskets.
The bell-shaped flowers are highly attractive to butterflies, and also edible for humans (although be careful, some people report itchy reactions). After spring blooming, brown seed pods will remain on the upright stalks through the fall.
A spectacular array of blazing star in bloom. Photo credit: Troy Springer, Florida Wildflower Foundation
Walking through a northwest Florida wildflower prairie in autumn, the star of the show is Liatris. Known as dense gayfeather or blazing star, this tall (up to 7’!) stunner of a plant is covered up with clusters of small purple flowers. The flowers are are composed of tiny, frilly five-petaled florets. Each cluster may have groups of up to 18 flowers at a time, crowding the stalk with color.
Migrating monarchs feed on blazing star in late fall. Photo credit: Whitney Scheffel
Before blooming, the spiky grasslike structure grows upright and produces a series of dozens of green leaflets, similar in form to rosemary.
While delicate in appearance, the blazing star is a hardy plant adapted to a wide range of habitats. Some varieties can grow in the pure sand of beach dunes and scrub, while Liatris spicata thrives in the soggy wet soils of bogs and pine flatwoods. The species is known for attracting bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds, so it makes a great addition to a pollinator garden. The flowers perform best in full sun.
Side-by-side, the bottlebrush-like blazing star plant before and after blooming. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
Blazing star is particularly impressive in a large group, so you can plant dozens together (by seed or container) for a beautiful effect. After blooming deep purple this time of year, they’ll turn a goldish bronze that adds to the interesting fall color of a garden. Liatris will also re-seed every year after dying back in the winter.
There are many plants native to the United States known commonly as colic root, including blazing star. This nickname arose from its traditional medicinal use treating stomach cramps. Additional uses of a tea made from the plant were used for everything from sore throats and kidney issues, while an incense made from dried roots was burned for sinus relief.
A view of the recently completed UWF Heritage Roots Garden. Photo credit: Mike Thomin, Florida Public Archaeology Network
Just about a year ago, a dream team of history and plant nerds assembled around a common goal. The idea was to transform an open, weedy space adjacent to the University of West Florida (UWF) Archaeology Institute into a lush garden. The garden would be unique, however, in its purpose; to showcase native plants important to the wide swath of humanity that has made northwest Florida home for centuries. The plants featured here were to be planted deliberately, demonstrating how human relationships with vegetation over time have made the area habitable.
This sign describing the edible, medicinal, and building uses of Black-eyed Susan plants is typical of the educational information at the garden. Photo credit: Mike Thomin, Florida Public Archeology Network.
If you walk on the site today, that idea and initial sketches have been made reality. Concentric circles of gravel, mulch, and grass form the shape of a gopher tortoise shell. The tortoise has spiritual significance to members of the local Muscogee tribe and ecological importance as a keystone species. Within the planted space are native groundcovers, shrubs, and trees that have long provided food, traditional medicine, building materials, and dyes and textiles for clothing. This flora makes human life tolerable in a hot, rainy, often difficult environment.
Locally brewed yaupon tea was served as part of the opening ceremony for the garden. Photo credit: Mike Thomin, Florida Public Archaeology Network.
Illustrated signage designed for the site explains ethnobotanical principles, highlighting the relationship that people have had with fifteen plants as they provided healing, nourishment, or protection over the years. The plants are identified on signage in Latin binomial, English common names, and Muscogee language. At the center of the garden is a gravel rectangular space, highlighted by a large piece of local iron rock that represents the tribal Sacred Fire.
One featured plant includes the yaupon holly (Ilex vomitoria), whose leaves are brewed as a highly caffeinated tea. The tea is used ceremonially by many southeastern American Indian tribes, and was popular with early American settlers when tea was difficult to import. Yaupon tea is experiencing a bit of a popular resurgence, with commercial products readily available now. Known as the “black drink,” we all drank a cup of the tasty beverage as part of the open house and ceremonial blessing of the garden a few weeks ago.
Chief Dan Helms of the Santa Rosa Band of the Lower Muscogee tribe blesses the UWF Heritage Garden. Photo credit: Mike Thomin, Florida Public Archaeology Network.
The design team developed a scavenger hunt for youth visitors and is working on a self-guided tour to educate the public about native plants, their cultural heritage, and their role in supporting a healthy watershed. The garden is open to the public during daytime hours, and located near the entrance to UWF at the eastern corner of University Parkway and Campus Drive.
Habitat, whether for wildlife or people, relies on the provision of food, water, shelter, and space. All these needs are met within the UWF Heritage Roots Garden. We hope that visitors will develop a deeper appreciation of the region’s historical and ecological legacy, strengthening modern cultural connections with the past. We hope to tie in the Heritage Garden to other UWF campus garden spaces, including the Edward Ball Nature Trail and the UWF Community Garden.
A typical katydid, with remarkable leaf-like camouflage. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
The intricate camouflage developed within the animal kingdom never fails to fascinate me. From fish that look like seagrass blades to butterflies that look like tree bark—or a pair of eyes—the variety, color, and textures are just mind-boggling. Among those are the leaf bugs, or katydids, that flawlessly evoke natural foliage. I had one join me on a patio chair recently, and I couldn’t stop starting at the detailed venation on their wings, which perfectly mimicked the veins on a leaf.
One of the pink katydids on display at the Audubon Insectarium. Photo credit: Amy Pitre courtesy LSU AgCenter
There are well over 6,000 species of katydids, and they’re found on every continent but Antarctica. Related to crickets and grasshoppers, they are similar in that they are remarkable jumpers, with strong hind legs that can also produce recognizable scraping, buzzing, and trilling sounds. The insects got their name from the perception that the noises they produce sound like, “Katy did!, Katy didn’t!” which are primarily made by males of the species. Song production and recognition among katydids are highly developed, used for warnings, attracting mates, or defending territory. Katydids detect sounds by raising their front legs, which have sensing/hearing patches called tympanum. Katydid and cicada songs can be differentiated by timing—cicadas trill during the day, while katydids are active at night.
Katydids have antennae nearly as long as their bodies, and despite their large wings are not strong flyers. Every katydid I’ve ever seen is a leafy green color, blending perfectly into its surroundings and hiding in plain sight from avian predators. However, they come in several different colors, including tan, yellow, orange, and hot pink. I cannot fathom how hot pink is an effective adaptation, but they are occasionally found—at a rate of 1 in 500—in the wild. The pink coloration is due to a genetic condition called erythrism, which is similar to the recessive traits causing albinism. New Orleans’ Audubon Insectarium exhibits several pink katydids, which, with no natural predators, can live typical katydid lifespans.
Katydids are found widely in the state and can be a pest of citrus, but are not considered a major issue. In a home garden, they are generally considered beneficial. While they might nibble on plant parts, they also feed on pest insects like aphids and can aid in pollination.
Fall webworms in a Tennessee forest. Photo credit: UF IFAS Extension
Have you ever noticed the big knots of webbing in some trees this time of year? They’re usually sort of a brown-pink hue, much too big for a spider but not really tightly wound enough to be a nest or cocoon.
A close-up of the fall webworm tent reveals dozens of tiny caterpillars and skeletonized leaves. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
What you’re seeing actually is a cocoon of sorts—a big shared one created by hundreds of larval fall webworms (Hyphantria cunea). This common name is a bit of a misnomer. The webbing—often referred to as a tent—is built in late summer, not fall, and these are caterpillars, not worms. But I suppose it gets the idea across!
On a recent hike, I saw webbing up close, so I was able to really investigate the caterpillars inside. They are quite small, and will undergo up to five molting stages, or instars, before adulthood. Upon transformation, they will become white or speckled moths. Fall webworms are native to the entirety of the United States—in the northern end of their range the moths will be solid white, whereas further south they will have darker spots on their wings. Due to accidental introduction, fall webworms are invasive throughout Europe and portions of Asia.
Adult fall webworm, with spots on white, which is typical for members of this species from the southern part of its range. Photo credit: Lyle Buss, UF
Host plants include a wide range of more than 80 deciduous hardwood species, allowing a broader spectrum of places for the caterpillars to undergo their various larval phases. During their months in the “tent”, the larvae feed on and skeletonize the leaves encapsulated within their webbing. This causes damage to the leaves, but results in no permanent issues to the trees—being late summer and fall during their tenure, the trees eventually lose their leaves anyway.
While the tents are a bit unsightly, controlling the caterpillars or removing the webs is unnecessary. Once they’ve reached their final caterpillar stage, they’ll hide out in tree bark and leaf litter on the ground until metamorphosizing into moths the following spring. Adult moths mate and lay eggs in the late spring and summer, starting the cycle all over again.
