\ V (ig ‘ Nip NM Y ' = > 2 § ES SS iG 2 YP | ; = <4) a 7G ; es tid . a } Ets { h 5 Ky H yew é es - aT vay PAG A, re By iat a! q ati tas ee ee A oP Big ae eesti ae TY ' » ; its on yy i Corns 5 be ts ei . iy, yy : js ‘ : vs yi M { 7 al eo ma ee ma 5 Ms oe P “ve hea vn bs) abe ' ai tf at nese ue ‘1 enter a swamp as a sacred place.’’—Thoreau BOG-TROTTING FOR ORCHIDS By GRACE GREYLOCK NILES With Illustrations from Nature G. P. Putnam’s Sons New York and London Tbe Knickerbocker Press 1904 CoPpyYRIGHT, 1904 BY GRACE GREYLOCK NILES Published, April, 1g04 The Knickerbocker Press, Rew Dork TO GENEVIEVE FARNELL IN GRATEFUL APPRECIATION OF HER AID AND ENCOURAGEMENT : J “wat A eat rau ‘ we Rea, ae ¥ Preface URING many seasons spent in the Hoosac Valley, it has been a source of great pleas- ure to me to trace mountain streams through moss-grown ravines to their beginnings, and to explore the almost inaccessible recesses of the sphagnous boglands. I have found it a delight to study the orchids, ferns, and various flowers sheltered in their homes, far removed from the roadside. I sel- dom follow any well-worn forest paths, for I have observed that the rarer plants do not dwell where the foot of man or the grazing herds have wandered. So it happens that the walks described in these pages lead mostly across lots, over hills and mountains, and through swamps. The Hoosac Valley lies in the heart of the irregular Taconic Mountains, and extends over the southwest- ern part of Bennington County, Vermont, and the northwestern part of Berkshire County, Massachu- setts. This region has a soil peculiarly adapted to the origin and growth of orchids. Here along the numer- ous streams and in the little vales are many unfathom- able peat and marl beds which are veritable orchid gardens. ‘The valley seems to be the common ground where rare plants from the North and South, as well Vv vi Preface as the migrating species from the East and West, meet and overlap each other. Many people are accustomed to think of the orchid as a tropical flower which grows in our country only in cultivation and under highly artificial conditions. It is, however, true that many of the most attractive species of this beautiful group are endemic to most parts of the United States. There are to-day, accord- ing to conservative reports, from twenty-seven to thirty genera and from one hundred and fifty to one hundred and sixty species of native orchids found in North America, north of Mexico. Most of these are terrestrial or earth-loving. There are eleven epiphytes, all of which are found only in the Southern States. The range of the North American orchids extends wherever sunshine and moisture prevail, nearly as far north as the Arctic Circle. Four Cypripediums grow between latitudes 54° and 64°, and from fifteen to eighteen species of the Orchid Family are natives of Alaska. The North Atlantic region, covering northeastern United States and Canada, produces seventy-one species of Orchidaceze; of these from forty-eight to fifty-six are reported for New England, and from forty to forty-two are found in the Hoosac Valley. Of the seventy-one North Atlantic orchids only fifteen or sixteen have not been found within Vermont. The most widely-known genus—Cypripedium, or Mocassin- Flower—is represented by thirteen species on the North American continent. ‘This includes the single Preface Vii Mexican species. Six of this number have been collected in Connecticut, and five grow in the Hoosac Valley. The excursions which I have recorded in this book were made particularly in search of orchids; but I have collected and observed all other flowers of interest which grow in the region which I have traversed, for the purpose of showing the natural environments of orchids, and introducing their near neighbors of swamp, forest, and rocky pasture-land. G. Gon, WILLIAMSTOWN, MASSACHUSETTS. coe { ; i Gh q a ary. Contents First Season CHAPTER Ty Ii, eae OFF TO THE HILLS OF BERKSHIRE AND BENNINGTON. BALL BROOK AND THE BoGs oF ETCH- OWwoG . : ; j : : . THE HAuNTS OF THE RAam’s-HEAD Moc- CASIN-FLOWERS . THE STOLEN MOCCASINS. THE QUEEN OF THE INDIAN MOcCASsIN- FLOWERS . Har, STORMS AT ETCHOWOG . SWEET POGONIAS AND LIMODORUMS . A CoLony oF Ram’s-HEAps IN WITCH HoLLow OVER THE HUCKLEBERRY PLAINS Second Season . WESTVILLE SWAMPS AND Mount CAR- MEL, CONNECTICUT . MAy SHOWERS AND WHITE MOCCASIN- FLOWERS SAUCY JAYS AND POLYPORES ix PAGE 125 137 149 x Contents Third Season CHAPTER PAGE XIII. THE SWAMPS AND HILLs OF MOSHOLU AND LOWERRE, NEW YORK : = | ae XIV. THE SWAMP OF ORACLES — HoosAc VALLEY : : ‘ : : . ey XV. WHITE OAKS AND GREGOR ROCKS... 183 XVI. ALPINE BLOSSOMS OF THE DOME . . 201 XVII. THE CASCADE AND BELLOWS- PIPE, NoTcH VALLEY, BERKSHIRE COUNTY, MASSACHUSETTS . : ; : . 2a XVIII. THE NATURAL BRIDGE OF MAYUNSOOK VALLEY, NORTHERN BERKSHIRE , 224 XIX. ORANGE MOUNTAINS, AND SALT MEAD- ows, NEW JERSEY : : : eee APPENDIX— NEW ENGLAND ORCHIDS : . eae INDEX. : , - : : - - . 285 Illustrations The photographs in this list marked thus * were taken by Miss Katherine Lewers, the others by the author. The color- ing is the work of the author. Of the fifteen genera of Or- chidacee in New England, all save Listera, Tipularia, and Aplectrum are represented in these illustrations. The Pink Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium acaule) * Colored Frontispiece The Large Yellow Moccasin-Flower NOR hir- sutum) * : - : : : é : Colored The Botanizing Can, or Vasculum, Showing the White- Petaled Lady’s Slipper and Maiden-Hair Fern * Mount Greylock’s Brotherhood—the Berkshire Highlands, from Mount Céta, Bennington County, Vermont, Showing the College Town of Williamstown in the Valley * E : : : The Western Gateway of Hoosac Mountain, the Entrance to Hoosac Tunnel, North Adams, Massachusetts Source of photograph unknown. Ball Brook, in the Swamp of Oracles, Pownal, Vermont * The Showy Lady’s Slipper—the Queen of the Indian Moccasin-Flowers (Cypripedium regin@g)* . Colored The Fleur-de-Lis (Zv7s versicolor) * P The Fountain of Arethusa, near the Bogs of Bese Pownal, Vermont. : ; ‘ F ‘ Round-Leaved Sundew (Drosera rotundifolia) . The Carnivorous Plants, commonly called Pitcher Plants, and Dumb Watches (Sarracenia purpurea) . : ‘ The Bogs of Etchowog, Showing the Dome in the Distance, Pownal, Vermont * : xi PAGE Io 14 18 24 28 30 32 34 36 Xii Illustrations PAGE The Ram’s-Head Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium arietinum) 42 The Pink Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium acaule)* . :) 48 This is the only two-leaved Cypripedium found in the Atlantic region. Colored The Tall White Northern Orchis (Hadbenaria dilatata), near Arethusa’s Spring, Bogs of Etchowog, Pownal, Vermont ; ;: “ : : = = tae Colored The Showy Orchis (Orvchis spectabilis) é ; 56 The first orchid of the spring, found near he rocky borders of the Thompson Brook, East Pownal, Vermont. Colored The Small Yellow Fragrant Moccasin-Flower bie dium parviflorum)* ., : : ; oe Colored The Small White Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium candi- dum). : ; , ; F : F L gt “OB Colored The Queen of the Indian Moccasin-Flowers (Cypripedium regine@), from the Bogs of Etchowog, Pownal, Vermont 68 The Small Purple-Fringed Orchis (Habenaria psycodes) . 72 The Showy Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium regine)* . of awe Colored The Northern Gap, Showing the Taconic Mountains of Bennington County, from Mount QCéta, Vermont. The Bennington Battle Monument towers to the left in the Distance* . : : ; o.oo The Rose Pogonia (Fogonia obhigtees ‘ : «. g8 Colored The Thompson Brook, East Pownal, Vermont . . >| 60 The Grass Pink (Limodorum tuberosum) . : 92 This is a strange, beautiful orchid writs a straight seed-pod (ovary). Colored The Perry Elm, Marking the Site of Fort Massachusetts, on the Harrison’s Flats, North Adams, Massachusetts, Showing Saddleback Mountain in the Distance . - “98 Illustrations The Small Round-Leaved Orchis (Habenaria Hooker- tana) * * , : ‘ ; ; ; , Solna The Showy Orchis (Orchis spectabtlis) * Showing the plant nearly natural size. Colored The Large Purple-Fringed Orchis (Habenaria grandiflora) From lithograph in Meehan’s Native Flow- ers and Ferns of the United States, 1: 1878. By permission. Colored The Blackberry Blossoms from Mount Cita, Pownal, Vermont * The Yellow Clintonia (Clintonia borealis), Rattlesnake Brook Swamp, Mount Cita, Pownal, Vermont ‘‘ White, innocent twigs of apple”’* . The Woodman’s Road through Rattlesnake pega Mount Ckta, Pownal, Vermont . : ; = The Beautiful Arethusa (Avethusa bulbosa) Colored The Rattlesnake Plantain (Peramium), a Group of Three Species Collected on Rattlesnake nee Mount a Pownal, Vermont . The Snowy Dogwood Blossoms, ens the Hills he Tee olu, New York* : 1. Indian Pipes (JJonotropa epee ; 2. Pine- Sap ee: tropa Hypopitys) . : : : : - The Snow-Plant of the Sierra Nevada Mountains (Savcodes sanguinea)* . - : Motherless Baby Whippoorwills* A Colony of the Small Yellow Fragrant Moccasin- ie (Cypripedium parvifiorum) in the Glen of Comus, District Fourteen, Pownal, Vermont * ; Colored The Mountain Laurel (Kalmia latifolia) The Gregor Rocks, Hoosac Valley, from Pownal Centre Road, Vermont * : Xill PAGE I0O 104 IIo II2 116 126 134 144 150 158 164 166 176 178 184 188 xiv Illustrations The Pot-Hole of Wash-Tub Brook, Pownal, Vermont, Showing the Stream Whirling through its Basin An Ancient Pot-Hole, Showing an Erstwhile Revolving Stone, Located on the Granite Ridge, near the Wolf’s Den, Bronx Park, New York City* . The Bluebells of New England (Campanula eae = Three Rare Ferns from Gregor Rocks and Wash-Tub Brook Region, Pownal, Vermont: 1. Rue-in-the-Wall Spleenwort (Asplenium Ruta-muraria); 2. Purple- Stemmed Cliff-Brake (Pellza atropurpurea) ; 3. Walk- ing Fern (Camptosorus rhizophyllus) * “ : . The Rocking Boulder, Located on the Granite Ridge near the Bear’s Den, in the BRIER Garden, Bronx Park, New York City . . A pressure of fifty earmade causes this poelale to move about two inches. From photograph by George Stonebridge. The Red Wood Lily (Lilium Philadelphicum) . The Cascade of Notch Brook, at the Base of Mount Grey- lock’s Brotherhood, North Adams, Massachusetts Notch Valley and the Bellows-Pipe, North Adams, Massa- chusetts. Mount Greylock towers up on the right, and the Ragged Mountains on the left hand The Marble Arch of the Natural Bridge, North Adams, Massachusetts : : : . : , : The Star-Blossoms of the Grass of Parnassus (/arnassia Caroliniana), and the Ladies’ Tresses The Hoosac River, Pownal, Vermont * The Fragrant White Moccasin-Flower (C tegen Mon- lanum) . . : . : : 3 Colored The Showy Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium reging)* This is the most gorgeous Cypripedium in the world, and without doubt one of the most ancient types of the genus. Colored PAGE 190 194 196 198 200 210 212 218 228 234 238 242 244 Illustrations The Pink Moccasin-Flower—the Stemless Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium acaule)* Showing the poraceane of the perinlius ana bilobed labellum, and the processes of the sepals and petals. Colored The Showy Orchis (Orchis spectabzlis) * : The first orchid of the season, ay Ee the hooded fold above the orifice of the spur, and the processes of the flowers on the bracted scape. Colored A Group of Three Species of Genus Habenaria: 1. The Tall Northern Green Orchis (Hadenaria hyperborea) ; 2. The Tall Northern White Orchis (Hadenarta dila- tata) ; 3. The Large Round-Leaved Orchis (Hadbenaria orbiculata) * : : : : - : ‘ Colored The Spikes of Habenaria (Habenaria Andrewseti and Habenaria psycodes) , The Small Bog Orchis (Habenaria Mavellctn) Andrews’ Rose-Purple Orchis (Habenaria Andrewseiz ) The Beautiful Arethusa (Avethusa bulbosa) Showing the structural parts of the flower. the single leaf, and bulbous root. Colored The Hooded Ladies’ Tresses (Gyrostachys Romanzoffiana) The Nodding Ladies’ Tresses (Gyvostachys cernua) The Slender Ladies’ Tresses (Gyvostachys gracilis) The Haunts of the Rattlesnake Plantain (Feramium) amid the Pines and ees of the Domelet, Pownal, Vermont : The Green Adder’s-Mouth WA tebanines unifolia) The Large Twayblade (Lep/iorchis lilitfolia) Northern Calypso (Calypso bulbosa) From lithograph in Meehan’s Nukes iar and Ferns of the United States, 1: 1878. By permission. Colored XV PAGE 246 248 250 252 254 258 262 264 266 268 270 272 274 276 XVI lilustrations A PAGE The Coral-Root (Corallorhiza) . - : : ; . 200 The Grass Pink (Limodorum tuberosum) . F 282 A beautiful grassy-leaved orchid icttad in company with the dainty Rose Pogonia, and frequently with the rarer Arethusa in wild cranberry marshes. Colored Epiphytes, or Air Plants. A Corner in the Orchid House of the Botanical Gardens of New York City* . . . a FIRST SEASON Sor LON 1J0u eft | Ee De al oe | I Off to the Hills of Berkshire and Bennington It is not the walking merely, it is keeping yourself in tune for a walk, in the spiritual and bodily condition in which you can find entertainment and exhilaration in so simple and natural a pastime.—BuURROUGHS, Fepacton. LL winter I had been promising myself the pleasure of watching the flowers unfold in the Bogs of Etchowog. On May 25th I reached the old farm on Mount CHta, having departed from New York on May 14th, fully equipped as a bog-trotter, with hunting-boots, rubber gloves, short skirts and vasculum. My route was through New Haven and Hartford, across the States of Connecticut and Massachusetts. On my way I stopped for a brief visit at the home of a friend in New Haven. Inher garden, I found a corner of the Taconic woodlands awakening. Here, in line and on time, stood five modest Yellow Lady’s Slippers (Cypripedium hirsutum), members of the Orchid Fam- ily; while along the same border clusters of the Showy Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium regine@) were pushing their dewy-tipped beaks into light and sunshine. Although rather late in their blossoming, compared 3 P gee hese se F NEW YOR BOTANI GARDE 4 4 Bog-Trotting for Orchids with the other sisters of this genus in New England, this species usually reaches its prime about June 2oth. On the east side of the garden towered an ambitious row of ferns, some twenty root clusters or more, includ- ing many rare species. Here was an especially queer little strap-like leaf, which one would scarcely call a fern unless one were a professed fern-hunter. It is the rare Walking Leaf (Camptosorus rhizophyllus), the scientific name meaning a bent heap, and the appear- ance of the plant indeed is suggestive of the name. The frond is from four to twelve inches long, springing from a heart-shaped base and reaching out a long, nar- row runner, which readily roots at the end again, and thence takes a step onward, and so on, until three or four steps are taken, often in this way forming a beauti- ful carpet for the cold gray lime rocks, which it prefers in its native haunts. The Walking Fern is shy in its habitat, seeking the most hidden crevices in ledges along our mountain sides. I have collected it in many dark ravines, as well as along dry, rocky ridges in the Hoosac High- lands. It takes kindly to cultivation for a season or two, and then dies out for want of its natural soil of limestone. A short walk toward West Rock, New Haven, showed me how far advanced the season really was. Here were crowds of children playing in fields covered with violets and bluets, and farther down in the damp meadows were long, serpentine lines of gold, where the Marsh Marigolds (Caltha palustris), known com- The Large Yellow Moccasin-Flower This common Cypripedium is cies—Cypripedium intergrading. (Cypripedium harsuiwm.) \ ed with the Small Yell parvtflorum—with which i It is also ne Tragrant Il t grows cli se C rly related with the European Yellow pripedium cal ‘ypripeditum described | in Off to the Hills 5 monly as Cowslips, were already fading. On the edges of the swamp, the Marsh Buttercups of the Crow- foot Family (Ranunculacee), were lifting their shallow yellow cups to catch the sunshine. We wandered on through a pretty, wild bit of young woodland until we reached the border of a murmuring stream, creeping onward through the vale and meadow, touching the blossoming orchards here and there, and freshening the sweet white violets on its brink. North Adams, Massachusetts, was to be my next station. This city is about two hundred miles from New York, among the Hoosac Highlands. I almost expected to see reluctant snowdrifts still lingering in the fence corners and shaded pine glens of this part of ‘Beautiful Berkshire,’’ and I half hoped to find a few late clusters of the Trailing Arbutus (Afzg@a repens) creeping through the cold, mossy ravines. Upon my arrival in North Adams, I looked through the bogs under the brow of Hoosac Mountain near Aurora’s Lake, and I could perceive scarcely any difference in the progress of flowers or foliage here from that of the region from which I had just de- parted. Dogwood, apple trees, violets, anemones and wake-robins were in blossom, while in the deeper bogland I found one lone, pale Pink Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium acaule). American White Hellebore, so commonly known as Indian Poke or Itch Weed (Veratrum viride), had already sent out a luxuriant growth of green leaves, which for a moment deceived me—as it had done many 6 Bog-Trotting for Orchids times before—by its resemblance to the foliage of the Showy Lady’s Slipper. The leaves of both these plants are plicate, and have ever been confused even by the earliest herbalists. Unrolling a spike of leaves one day, I found I had actually disturbed the buds of the queen of the Lady’s Slippers instead of the Hellebore, although they proved to be blasted. No doubt some warm day had started them prematurely, frost and cold rains later proving their ruin. Here on a sheltered damp hillside, I found my first clusters of the season of the Pink Azalea (Azalea nudifiora), which is commonly known hereabout as Swamp-Apple, and which is very similar to Ahodora Canadensis. These species belong to the Heath Family, one of the largest among the flora of Hoosac Valley. The beautiful pink flowers of the Great Rhododendron, which measure from one to two inches in diameter, render it the most charming species of this group. It is cultivated extensively, but grows in its natural wild state, in this region, only along the margins of ponds near Montpelier and Wells River, in Vermont. The American Mountain Laurel (Kalmia), which be- comes so gorgeous later in the season, the Lambkill, Labrador Tea, Andromeda and the Cassandra are closely allied species of this group, common to this region. Other familiar members of it are the Trailing Arbutus, Gaultheria, and the Creeping Snowberry. They may be found in Aurora’s Swamp. North Adams is not far from the sources of the south and north branches of the Hoosac River, in a wild and Off to the Hills 7 rugged portion of Berkshire. ‘The Hoosac proper is formed at the junction of these two streams, in the vicinity of the Print Works near Marshall Street in the city, and flows on gently in a northwesterly course to join the Hudson, near Lansingburg. Mountain streams in this region are numerous, and flow musically down through deep chasms and over great marble precipices, to swell the Hoosac as it glides slowly out through the deep-cut valley. ‘“We Hold the Western Gateway,” is part of the in- scription on the seal of the city of North Adams, which is known as the ‘‘ Tunnel City.’’ This is practically true, for the sole gateway of the trade from the Western States passes though the flinty wall of the Hoosac Mountain, in order to reach Boston direct. ‘The idea of opening a path for transit through the ‘‘ Forbidden Mountain,’’ as the Indians called it, was conceived six years after the first mail-coach and four-in-hand rattled through the street of this town to Greenfield, in 1814. It was found impossible to build the projected canal from Boston to Albany. The estimated cost of build- ing the tunnel was less than two million dollars, but when it was completed in 1875, the total financial out- lay had amounted to over twenty millions. Until Jan- uary 1, 1887, this tunnel was owned by the State of Massachusetts, when it was purchased by the Fitchburg Railroad. It is four and three fourths miles long, and twenty-six feet wide, permitting of double tracks. The arch is from twenty-two to twenty-six feet high, and at each portal there is a massive granite facade, 8 Bog-Trotting for Orchids Whenever I come to the Hoosac Valley, I enter, if possible, by way of this tunnel. I seem thus to close away the outer world, and to penetrate a new realm hid- den here in the seclusion of the marble highlands. This triumph of man over the power of Nature needs no further introduction here. I can never forget, however, the weary years of hardships endured by those who toiled in its construction, entombed within the heart of the mountain, subject to the dangers of quicksands, falling rocks, damp and gases, explosives, fire and starvation, before the great work was accomplished. I enjoyed the ridges in the pastures along the foot- hills of the grim-faced Tunnel Mountain, and about Aurora’s Lake, which reflects like a pretty little mirror the rugged beauty of the hills. This lake is partly natural, but now dammed artificially. Every line of its terraced shores bears the scars of antiquity, which would indicate that ten thousand years ago a larger lake slept in this hollow vale which geologists have estimated at a depth of six hundred feet. Here are rich deposits of glacial drift, and northeast of Aurora’s Lake are sphagnous swamps, where I find many rare orchids and early spring blossoms, Here both the pink and yellow Moccasin-Flowers bloom in May, while in June the queen of the tribe unfolds her white- petaled purity. This bogland is very similar to that of the Swamp of Oracles in Pownal, in District Fourteen, save for the openness of the former’s shores. Aurora’s Swamp is located in a deep flinty basin, surrounded only by Uuloyy I By-usp BIA pue S1IdC dis . pe | pel ejad-9a} 14 oI UTM Ss 6 InmMose I ‘ur a > > 1 Ss A e] 2 a ou 0 ae te Loe Se ae baie: arn. ae a Off to the Hills 9 low tangled bushes and open pasture-land beyond, without forests to shield the bogs from the sweep of winds. The hills are strewn with great boulders left here in the Glacial Age, which rest, poised as monuments of that mystical period. Especially interesting are the dimpled erosions upon one boulder, which rests just northeast of the lakelet, upon the ridges sloping east- ward toward the sphagnous swamp. ‘There are visible deep scratches, hollows, arches and miniature pillars, which the whirling eddies of the perilous waves have eroded during the ages unknown. Higher on the summit of the Hoosac rests another immense rock known to students of geology as the ‘Great Ver- monter.’’ It is said to have been brought from the marble and granite heights of Vermont, imbedded in the ice-drift. Through the melting of the glacial sheet, one of the drifting bergs left this hero of the ages aS we may see it now, moored and balanced high on old Hoosac’s brow. The geological surveys of northern Massachusetts, by President Hitchcock of Amherst in 1838, early iden- tified all of the low, round hills to be seen southward from Aurora’s Lake as the result of glacial action. Mount Greylock’s Brotherhood is a group of giant glacial hills, as it were, and is the highest pile of Taconic formation in this State. The erosions of the great ice-sheet are plainly seen on the rocky summits of these mountains, and only time and the decay of the rock itself will do away with these scars of that 10 Bog-Trotting for Orchids mystical age. The name of ‘‘Greylock’’ appears to be derived from the lowering cloud-mist so often cap- ping the whole Brotherhood at early dawn or before a storm. Vermonters who, from the hills at a great distance to the north, view this group of mountains, depend upon this capping of clouds as a forecast of the weather. Among the old folk, it is known and desig- nated as ‘‘ Greylock’s Nightcap,’’ a portent of a com- ing storm. Mount Greylock, the highest swell of this range, is 3600 feet above sea level, and commands a variable and extensive view from its bald summit, on which was early erected that first wooden observatory, during President Griffin’s term at Williams College. Here the poet and the philosopher, Hawthorne and Thoreau, have climbed to meditate. Many a message has gone forth from these heights to bless the busy world. Scarcely is there a son of old Williams who does not recall the mountain-day excur- sions led by Professor Albert Hopkins, and the glory of old Greylock at dawn and at the sunset hour. Thoreau writes of it: ‘‘It would be no small advan- tage if every college were thus located at the base of a mountain, as good at least as one well-endowed pro- fessorship. It were as well to be educated in the shadow of a mountain as in more classical shades. Some will remember, no doubt, not only that they went to college, but that they went to the mountain. Every visit to its summit would, as it were, generalize “AQT[VA 94} Ul UMOJSUTETTTTM JO UMOT adaT[0D 94} Surmoysg *‘yuoUTIIA ‘AJUNOD UOWZUIUUAG ‘v}q) JUNO|W UTOIy ‘SpuvTysIW s1ysyiag ey}—pooyssyjo1g S,yooj;Aerg JUNOT ~ PAF HOT ya! Say ey Off to the Hills II the particular information gained below, and subject it to more catholic tests.’’ ' The peak especially designated as Saddleback Moun- tain is at the junction of the eastern abutments of that huge wall of Taconic Brotherhood which appears south of the old battle-ground where formerly stood the early border Fort Massachusetts, on the Harrison flats, near the flag station of Greylock. The union of Mount Williams, sloping to the east, and Prospect Mountain to the west forms the seat of the saddle. Mount Hopkins—so named in honor of Professor Albert Hopkins of Williams, the first nature-student of our land, making excursions afield in 1833 —lies south of these. Old Greylock, proper, lifts its lofty brow still farther south, being situated about in the centre of this great range as it extends from east to west. Beyond Greylock stretches a long, misty line of blue peaks against the sky, which if observed from Mount Cita at the north, in Bennington County, Vermont, may be traced to the southwest to Symond’s Peak, the lowest of the group, named in memory of Captain Symond, who led the volunteer forces from our hills and vales to the memorable Battle of Bennington in 1777. Bald Mountain is also in the vicinity, and the closing in of these several peaks has conspired to form what is known as the ‘‘ Hopper,’’ and the ‘‘ Heart of Greylock.’’ The hollow vale amid these heights has 1Thoreau, Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, p. 244. 12 Bog-Trotting for Orchids the appearance of the hoppers used by millers years ago. Surely in the heart of the Taconics we are in one of the oldest rock formations of the earth, and the green terraced stairs lead us slowly down to the deep-set valley of the Hoosac, where once slept that ancient lake. All that now remains of that Lake of Dawn is pocketed in the basin under the Hoosac. The shores of Aurora’s Lake are lonely and still, save for the marsh thrushes which skim low over the waves and whistle shrilly. The groves of pine to the southeast are the haunts of solitude, and those who wander here can well imagine that the Afolian harps among the whispering trees are repeating a music of ages past, when only wind and waves were known to these hills. Amid these damp and reedy shores and swampy woods are tail brakes and delicate Maiden-Hair Ferns. Here, too, the tall and stately Royal-Fern (Osmunda vegalis) flourishes in deep seclusion, sheltered by the low-branching pines along the shore. It grows from two to four feet high in this locality, and is of a deep rich crimson-green tone against the grasses and bushes near. Mounds of moss, marking one of the trees of a primitive forest rotting below the soil, are thickly carpeted with the leaves of the Dog’s-Tooth Lily. Indeed, the picturesque paths which lead through these woods wind through a veritable fairy-land of flowers and ferns. One of these trails runs southward through rocky pastures, swamps and thickets, toward the Tunnel’s western gate. Off to the Hills 13 Along these slopes, among the limestone rocks, I found rows of the Ebony Spleenwort Fern, rather rare in this much-travelled way ; and on the brow of this ridge were many species of common fern. The pastures are barren and dry, with few bushes to break the dreary hori- zon, as one approaches the western portal of the Tunnel. I came upon one lone Apple-Thorn bush, of genus Crategus of the Apple Family. Nearly opposite, across the valley of the south branch of the Hcosac, which the Indians named the Ashuilticook, may be distin- guished the smoking Limekilns; while still farther southward, the white-spired village of Adams nestles at the base of Greylock, which towers serenely above the shaggy shoulders of Ragged Mountain. I wan- dered about the edges of the Tunnel cliffs where, in years gone by, had stood the impoverished cab- ins which sheltered the laborers who tunnelled the Hoosac. I descended into the chasm and seated my- self upon the wall of rocks, waiting for the trains to appear and disappear at the portal in the side of the hill. Presently one from the West crept ponder- ously intothecavern. The echoing roar was smothered, and died slowly away until it became an indistinct mur- mur. Not long afterward I felt, as well as heard, the low breathings and rumblings of a locomotive coming in the opposite direction. I heard its subterranean groans as of a great spirit, while the smoke poured forth, pushed in volumes before the engine, wreathing and curling about it as it emerged, and partially con- cealing its grim outlines. 14 Bog-Trotting for Orchids The faithful watchman, a modern Eckhart, sits before the entrance of the Western Gateway of Hoosac Moun- tain, and warns the people against entering through this portal to the greater world that lies beyond. It is as if he wished to guard these children of the mar- ble highlands from the risks attendant upon the wild whirl of life beyond these quiet hills. The sun was setting as I left him, calm but alert, at his post of duty, trimming and lighting his colored lanterns for signals of danger or safety to the approach- ing trains. Climbing up by the path which passes the little red cottage on the crest of the hill on the north bank of the chasm, I returned leisurely homeward, winding over the hillsides, far above Aurora’s Lake, then down along the borders of the swamp-lands. In the crevices of rock were creeping colonies of the Com- mon Polypody (Polypodium vulgare). Along the edges of this bog are still seen the primeval stumps of the pine and hemlock forests, which clothed these hillsides when only the Redmen dwelt and hunted among these wildernesses. In May and early June these decaying stumps are usually draped with Painted Trillium and the delicate vines of Gaultheria and the Creeping Snowberry, while the Arbutus trails about luxuriantly, covering up the ruins of years. “SHOSNYIVSSLIT “SUVPY YON ‘JouuNT, ovsooH 0} aoUVIWUy ay} ‘UTeJUNOW OvSOOFT Jo ABMIIEH UI9}S9M OT, isos II Ball Brook and the Bogs of Etchowog Fringing the stream, at every turn Swung low the waving fronds of fern ; From stony cleft and mossy sod Pale asters sprang, and golden-rod. WHITTIER, The Seeking of the Waterfall. N May 25th I reached Pownal, Bennington County. Upon the following day I ex- plored the great swamps of Etchowog. Prepared with luncheon, vasculum, basket for roots and my hound Major, I started on one of those happy excursions such as Thoreau recommends we should take, ‘‘in the spirit of undying adventure, never to return,—prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only as relics to our desolate kingdoms.”’ ' Ball Brook, a sluggish stream flowing northwardly to East Pownal swamps—commonly called the Bogs of Etchowog—has its source in the marshy hillsides north- west of the schoolhouse in District Fourteen. Two streams flow from this valley. One is called Ladd Brook, running southwesterly and following the wind. ings of the shady Ladd Road to Pownal village, where 1Thoreau, ‘‘ Walking,” Hacursions, p. 252. 15 16 Bog-Trotting for Orchids it joins the Hoosac River. ‘The other stream, Ball Brook, flows north and northeast onward through in- numerable and unfathomable swamps, to Bennington village, ten miles north, there meeting the Walloom- sac River, which is also a tributary of the Hoosac, farther northward in its course. This brook is rich in a continuous chain of peat bogs—rich from an orchid- hunter’s point of view. Although I have been familiar with this region from childhood, viewing it from the roadside only, I never at any time had ventured to follow Ball Brook through all its meanderings to the Bogs of Etchowog near Pownal Pond, a distance of some three miles. This would not be a long walk on a fair road, but it becomes rather dangerous and formidable when leading through quaking marshes in the soaking currents of a stream. A short distance to the right, north of the school- house in Number Fourteen, there is an old pathway nearly overgrown with bushy pines and birch and chestnut underbrush. This I followed, entering the hollow under the brow of the hill, and passing along the wood road which skirts the margins of one of the deepest, darkest jungles in these regions. The old people look upon it as akin to ‘‘ Witch Hollow,”’ on the Gulf Road near by, and tell strange tales of ghosts, and of some mythological peddler who was swallowed here in the black mud of this ancient tarn, after having been robbed of his fine silks and precious jewels. Weird, hollow drummings issue and echo through these shaded vales from time to time. Probably they Ball Brook 17 are due, however, to nothing more startling than the alarum of a partridge, or the hoot of the screech-owl ; or the creaking and rubbing of partially fallen trees against their supporting brothers, voicing a portent of coming storm. I hear in this woodland seclusion little save the whispering of the winds, the sighing of the pines, and snapping of dead twigs, mingled with the chorus of the thrushes. The first settlers here about interpreted these wood-sounds far differ- ently ; then the primeval forests were dense, and the noises were deep and full of mystery, and there was fear of the Redman’s war-whoop. As Burroughs writes: ‘‘ The ancients, like women and children, were not accurate observers. Just at the critical moment their eyes were unsteady, or their fancy, or their cred- ulity, or their impatience got the better of them, so that their science was half fact and half fable. They sought to account for such things without stop- ping to ask, Are they true? Nature was too novel, or else too fearful to them to be deliberately pursued and hunted down.’’’* I stopped on a corduroy bridge to draw on my high- water boots and rubber gloves, for one feels safer when entering this dense swamp if protected from poisonous roots and foliage, biting insects and things that creep and crawl. I had started out with small belief that I would find any prime blossoms of the Orchid Family, for nothing of importance had yet unfolded in Aurora’s Swamp in 1 Burroughs, A Year in the Fields. 2 18 Bog-Trotting for Orchids North Adams. But when I penetrated the heart of these rich, warm glooms, I found waiting for me a fragrant company of Dwarf Yellow Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium parviflorum); and innumerable Stemless Pink Lady’s Slippers, more frequently called the In- dian’s Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium acaule), stood as sentinels on the dryer edges of the swamp. The Marsh Marigolds were here also in their last stages, fading away, but still sufficiently bright; with the late indigo-blue violets, which rear their faces at least a foot high above the dark pools, to carpet the marsh with gold and purple. Poison Ivy cropped out frequently among these graceful orchids,—a beautiful vine, although unfriendly to man. It is difficult to describe the dense gloom of this bog, closed in on all sides by high rock-bound hills, which are clothed with pine and yellow birch trees, and which in their turn are but foothills to the higher watershed. It seems to have been a receiving basin for the waste and wear of the heights above for thousands of years. Here are fallen trees of every variety common in south- western Vermont, and these prostrate giants helped to form a safe footing through the quaking bogs. Many cold springs under the hill to the south con- spire to freshen the marsh, and after sluggish oozing northward, they unite and form the brook proper. The stream leads directly through the heart of the swamp, and at last, gathering force, rushes down over rocky slopes, presently to enter another swamp of greater breadth, filled with different trees and flowers. «ADI pun {os JUIMoLy ‘sapvosp7a UIDJUNOM aY T. “ADIU SMOJ[JOY PUD *SIUIADA YADP IY} WOdl UIDACT SMOUS TUIPIUL BY] SAWMOP PUD] YsLY asay) WoOdl YULAGT / Moy danaso{ $Ja]NALIL ISaY} Ja] ‘ALOFT ,, ‘JUOUIIIA ‘TRUMOY ‘safIvIQ jo duremsg oy} Ul ‘yooIg [Teg Ball Brook 19 The Showy Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium regine) was just sending forth its tiny roll of leaves, so I could not expect prime blossoms before June 15th at the earliest. Seated on a decaying log, I ate my luncheon, with Major before me begging impolitely for his portion, until I divided my cake with him. The mosquitoes were so troublesome that I decided to push onward. Carefully picking my way out of the swamp, I crossed the muddy brook, and found myself in a dry, rocky pathway which winds around the hillside, but still keeps within sound of the brook’s murmur. In exquisite little glens beside the path were Painted Trilliums and Stars-of-Bethlehem, while the white and gold stars of the dainty Goldthread (Coptis trifolia) were shining amid the moss and their own glossy green leaves. In the bend of the stream a little farther on were some of the most graceful little ferns, just near enough to the brink to catch now and then a dash of spray from the rushing waters, swayed in the coolness all day long, adding beauty to the nook. Still farther on, I saw that by crossing the stream I could enter a little ravine to the right, which promised hidden treasures. I waded through the brook, which was too wide to jump across; I found that it was also rather too deep for my boots, and that there were very few stepping-stones to make a dry crossing possible. But of what matter is a little water in one’s boots, when seeking the Gardens of the Gods? I landed 20 Bog-Trotting for Orchids safely on the opposite bank, after frightening many a shy, speckled trout from his hiding-place in this ideal fishing-hole. I was now ina small, low-lying glen where foot of man has seldom been. ‘The soil, though much drier than the ground over which I had recently passed, dis- played a honeycombed appearance, showing where the water had oozed away through the rich leaf-mould to seek the flowing stream beyond. Whole constellations of star-flowers were here; both the Painted and Crimson or Nodding Trilliums were abundant, asserting themselves and their rights, if size of flowers and leaves may indicate strength, among the tall, rank growth of the Common Brake (Prerts aguz- lina), which frequently rise five feet in height. Close by their long, harsh lobes grew the plicate leaves of the Indian Poke or White Hellebore. Skunk Cabbage (Spathyema fetida), so frequent in the swamps along Bronx River in Greater New York, is rarely seen here, although I find lone specimens now and then in Aurora’s Swamp in northern Berkshire, and in this jungle. Lily leaves and Dwarf Cornel peeped out from every shadow. Here I found the red-spotted leaves of Dog’s-Tooth Lily (Erythronium Americanum) and Clintonia (Ciinxtonia borealis), as well as the delicate leaves of the False Lily-of-the-Valley (Unzfolium Cana- dense), and several species of Solomon’s Seal, while the weird Indian Cucumber (Wedeola Virginiana) rose up everywhere beneath the luxuriant ferns. Dwarf Cornel, or Bunch Berry, locally known as Ball Brook 21 Bear Berry (Cornus Canadensis) was about to set its fruit. ‘These berries are of a deep vermilion color, and eatable if one has the patience to sever the seeds. From the bark of this species of the Dogwood Family is extracted a tonic which is very bitter. I found the beautiful Star-Flowered Solomon’s Seal (Vagnera stellata), and the deeper bogs revealed speci- mens of the rarer bog species, Vagnera trifolia, which, in spite of its name, produced plants with more than three leaves, and many beautiful fragrant flowers of a waxy white color. Indian Turnip (A7isema triphyl- lum), more commonly known to-day as Jack-in-the- Pulpit, was numberless ; the little priests in the pulpits were dressed in cardinal’s robes trimmed with stripes of green, white, and purple. This sylvan retreat which yielded so many specimens of beautiful flowers I called the ‘‘ Glen of Comus,’’ for I could not rid my thoughts of the deep, dark wood- lands where Sabrina was lost among the enchanters.’ I fancied that the Purple Trilliums stood with nodding petals bowed down to earth as though they were guilty of some crimson sin and dared not lift their faces to the sun. I gathered from every species some perfect treasure, and then returned, wandering once more beside the cool brook. I wondered if it carried all the memories of the forest fastness, gleaned among the roots of our frail, beautiful hillside flowers, through the mighty rivers to the deep seaweeds and strange aquatic blossoms ' Milton, Comus. 22 Bog-Trotting for Orchids which had at one time bloomed among these very hills ages and ages ago. Climbing a fence, I found myself in a parched, short- cropped cow-pasture, but the stream soon passed into a large tamarack swamp, where in many places neither man nor beast can wander with ease or safety. I rested under a wide-spreading pine tree, looking the marsh over to choose the best path through it, for I still had some distance to walk before I could reach Pownal Pond and the Bogs of Etchowog. In order to make my journey less burdensome, I de- cided to leave my treasures of gold and crimson hidden in this stream, where they would not only keep fresh, but would be much safer than with me. I felt that they would be reasonably safe from marauders, for orchids are far more numerous than human beings in this forlorn locality; for where verdant meadows might spread were only uncultivated, almost impassable, dis- mal swamp-lands. At last my flowers were safely placed in the bend of the brook near an old pine stump, where I made them fast, covering them with the coarse brakes which grow everywhere; then I strode on northward through the tamarack swamp. ‘This marsh covers a large part of Ball Farm, from which the brook crossing it derives its name. Through the trees I could see the old weather-worn farm buildings, nestling in the shade of a dozen or more large, thrifty maples, and now and then I heard a faint murmur of distant voices. Suddenly they sub- The Bogs of Etchowog 23 sided, and a small dog’s shrill bark told me that I was discovered, mistaken perhaps for the veritable ‘* Witch of the Hollow,’’ by the present colored occupants. There was no use in trying to follow the stream now, for its windings were intricate and indefinite. It wandered all over the meadow marsh, and splashed out in one great mud-hole, similar to that of the jungle in District Fourteen, save that the meadow here was open, with very little low tangle or underbrush in sight. In- numerable tamarack trees, however, lifted their grace- ful spires throughout the bog; yet this did not prevent the meadow from appearing flooded with sunshine. Away over on the west side of this swamp were many low-spreading trees of virgin pine, contrasting prettily with the lighter greens of the delicate spires of tama- rack. Between myself and the shore on either side of this mud-swamp waved acres of Fleur-de-lis, which would soon color the whole meadow with royal purple. Still westward of this lay an alderswamp. This shrub, called Speckled or Hoary Alder, belongs to the Willow Family, and grows about fifteen feet high, along swamp meadows, forming dense thickets. Many saucy swamp birds dwell here and appear tame; they came chattering after me, fearing, no doubt, that I might be in search of their nests and birdlings. Under the pines on the border of the swamp I rested, finding the while tender young Wintergreens (Gaul- theria), and many edible red berries, called Checker- berries, fruit of Gazltheria, sometimes known as 24 Bog-Trotting for Orchids Partridge-berry and Boxberry. The last two names are more frequently applied to the fruit of MWitchella repens, found growing in company with Gaultherta, and producing edible scarlet berries on a trailing vine, resembling myrtle. The flowers of this vine were now in bloom, giving forth a delicate perfume. Their white and pinkish-purple blossoms dotted the moss with a brilliancy like that of the Trailing Arbutus (Epige@a repens), so lately faded. The buds of Moneses uniflora were putting forth ‘ their ‘‘ single-delight,’’ the name coming from their solitary flower. Here also were quantities of the glossy, waxen leaves of Pipsissewa or Prince’s Pine (Chima- phila), and low creeping evergreens. Common Club- Moss and Ground-Pine were interlaced in their dark green beds, where had recently nestled the clusters of arbutus, now brown and faded, although the mossy hummocks still held the fragrance of their luxuriant green leaves. Whittier, writing of these spicy flowers, associated them as the first flowers which the Pilgrims looked upon after their landing on the bleak shores of New England, at Plymouth, in the spring of 1621, and says: Yet, ‘‘ God be praise!’’ the Pilgrim said, Who saw the blossoms peer Above the brown leaves, dry and dead, ‘* Behold our Mayflower here!”’ ! In New England the Arbutus is commonly called ‘* Mayflower,’’—not that it blooms especially in the month of May, for it has been found in northern Berk- 1 Whittier, Zhe Mayflowers. The Showy Lady’s Slipper — The Queen of the Indian’s Moccasin-Flowers. (Cypripedium regin@.) Few poets have ever sung the praises of the Queen of the Moccasin-Flowers. although a lovelier flower never beckoned to poetic fancy. . pal i ey sre * F tt Toe. pe ig je Oe oo» a : ‘ | £ , . . . . * . 7 ‘ - ; * 4 : ’ ; - = 4 ‘ 2 of « ‘ A, - ) ar) = ‘ ~ ‘ a . a * > The Bogs of Etchowog 25 shire as early as February and March. My observation is that prime blossoms are found in the Hoosac Valley region from March 15th until May 15th. I have also gathered beautiful clusters as late as June 23d, in cold nooks beneath the shades of spruce and pines. Their spicy perfume is ever the delight of New Englanders. Scrambling with difficulty over a fence which sagged toward me, I entered a neighboring pasture, finding here more alder trees. Small tamaracks, Christmas spires of spruce, and pine seedlings filled the pasture with fresh evergreens, making me fancy myself in a cultivated park, so regular and trim they stood. East- ward crept Ball Brook, wandering through deep, reedy grasses, where here and there stood tall spikes of last year’s Cat-tail Flag (7ypha). Here also grows the Sweet Flag or Calamus (4corus), which is not only good to eat, but a panacea for sore eyes. The cat-tails stood stiffly erect, as if guarding the blossoming bog, and serving, notwithstanding their dignity, as perches for the saucy finches which still chattered after me. Now I passed through a barway to the right, ever in hearing of the gurgling stream, which had reached a hard, dry, gravelly soil, abruptly following the down- ward slope around a hillside. A well-worn sheep path led me down into a bog similar to the Glen of Comus in District Fourteen, only if anything more wild and weird. Through the openings between the trees and knob-like glacial hills, I caught glimpses of the bold, rugged form of the Dome, standing coldly against the eastern horizon. 26 Bog-Trotting for Orchids A glance through these glooms revealed another colony of the Showy or White-petalled Lady’s Slippers just bursting forth from the earth, perhaps four inches high. I have found them frequently in these bogs, when full-grown, standing three feet tall, but the usual height is about two feet ; and in open meadow swamps often only eighteen inches, owing to the crowded soil, choked with grasses and low shrubs. In about three weeks these bogs would be gay with dainty Moccasin- Flowers. In the upper part of this swamp, I found a rather quaking corner devoted entirely to the deep green leaves and tall, white-bearded spikes of the not com- mon Buckbean (Jlenyanthes trifoliata), a distant cousin of the Blue Fringed Gentian. I know of several colo- nies of this rare plant in the bogs hereabout, where it grows plentifully, in its pet localities. It is liable to grow ever undisturbed, I am sure, since it chooses such dangerous swamps in which to flourish. Thoreau mentions that Hodge the geologist once found at least an acre of this species. He writes: ‘‘ We reached Shad Pond, or Noliseemack, an expansion of the river. Hodge, the assistant State Geologist, who passed through this region on the 25th of June, 1837, says, ‘We pushed our boats through an acre or more of buck-beans, which had taken root at the bottom, and bloomed above the surface in the greatest profusion and beauty.’ ’’* After leaving this jungle,—which reminded me of 1 Thoreau, Zhe Maine Woods, p. 34. The Bogs of Etchowog 27 the luxuriant vegetation of tropical swamps,—I pushed onward, ever nearing the broad marsh-lands of Etcho- wog, east of Pownal Pond, in the shadow of the Dome. A shaded wood-road winds around the base of the hill, through an open gateway into a thrifty, well-kept apple orchard. This adjoins the old Kimball homestead, and I therefore designated these marshes Kimball Bogs. Out through the orchard meadow I passed, crossing the dusty highway which leads northward around the pond. There are several roads leading to Bennington village ; some are rough, some are narrow and hilly, while others are broad and easy. The one to the left, called the Middle Road, follows through Pownal Centre to the county seat of courts and justice. By keeping to the right, one arrives at the same destination by the rough but picturesque East Road, under the brow of the Green Mountains. A direct route from Pownal Pond to Bennington is by way of the Hill Road, which leads directly north between the other highways. Thus the region is intersected from east to west by many roads running northward. I invariably recommend the Hill Road to the traveller who enjoys beauty of landscape. On this way, if he be a keen observer of nature, he will find much pleasure. Instead of going by the trodden way to Pownal Pond, I chose to follow closely the windings of Ball Brook, which at this point of the road, opposite Kim- ball’s barns, mingles with another mountain torrent that comes down from the spring heads above Thomp- son’s Pond, under the Majestic Dome. ‘The main 28 Bog-Trotting for Orchids current of this stream continues with the bend of the road, taking with it the volume of the water of Ball Brook as it crosses the greater stream. The courses of both streams are unnatural, having been removed, over one hundred years ago, from their original chan- nels in order to form a mill-pond for sawmill use. Originally, I am told, a dense forest of pine trees occu- pied the hollow where now the waves of Pownal Pond wash over the decaying stumps. The natural lake bed lies in these broad, sphagnous meadows east of Kimball’s homestead, winding around to the north, where now wave various small shrubs and trees. Barber’s sawmill, which stands close by the roadside, east of the pond to-day, is slowly crumbling away for want of use. Water finds its level, and al- though forced to go by the roadside, Ball Brook still seeks in part its old channels through the ancient meadows of Kimball’s Farm, where the stream is silent and elusive, as it glides among the tall, lush grasses. Walking along the borders of this hidden brook, through the tangle mingled with daisies and buttercups, I lost the stream entirely, only a line of gold marking its sleepy wanderings,—for marsh mari- golds were still plentiful here, ever following the edges of the brook. Hellebore grew over the swamp, and the tall grasses took on coarser forms as I waded farther on, deeper and deeper into the sphagnous grave of the ancient lake. At times it seemed so soft and spongy that I questioned my safety, even doubting the possibility The Fleur-de-Lis. (Jrts verisicolor.) rn s a bg » OCS a Es / 7 ¥ ‘ . ’ « £ ; S | =) re , Te 5 bos ~ The Bogs of Etchowog 29 of a search party securing my ‘‘ embalmed heart,”’’ if once I became fast in the mud, so I began to edge up toward firmer ground and the rocky hills near by. This was the most uncertain swamp I had ever traversed, and not quite safe for one to wade through alone. It is reputed to have been at one time the bed of a great lake, as evidenced by the terraced hillsides about it. Its waters might still linger beneath the black-peat and forest débris which support the trees and spongy sphagnum. However, a fence closed off the most dangerous parts of the bog to keep back the cows from the mire and ‘‘ dead holes,’’ as the un- fathomable places are designated by the lads who penetrate these bogs for the marsh cranberries in the autumn. I searched through this meadow for the Large Purple- Fringed Orchis (abenaria grandiflora), thinking per- haps I might find the leaves, although I was somewhat too early to secure the flowers, since they are not due until June 20th and later. On striking out for the hillside path, I found many problems to solve. It appeared impossible to gain a firm or safe footing in the sphagnum and mud, so se- curing a fence board which had been hurled about the marsh by the winds and storms, I slapped it down upon the soft earth and moss, and walked its length of eight feet. Then quickly relaying it, while my feet sank lower and lower in the moss, I hastened to pull out my muddy footgear and walked the length of my bridge once more,—repeating this perilous feat several times, 30 Bog-Trotting for Orchids until I had finally crossed the ‘‘ dead hole’’ and stood on ferra firma once more. There is certainly no experience like being stuck in a bog to arouse fearful forebodings. The discouraging effort to keep one foot above the ground only to find the other sinking deeper is most terrifying, and leads to hasty and excited movements which but increase the danger, and may finally lodge both feet fast in the mud. In such a case the sight of a board fence upon which an elbow may be rested is as welcome as a sail to a ship-wrecked mariner. ‘There is in truth much art and science in walking safely through mud and sphag- num. Onecannot saunter over the surface, and meditate at ease, but one must be ever alert, elastic as a rubber ball, and quick to feel a danger before it can be seen. The fields and woods are a good deal like the books we read: the more we become familiar with printed page or forest path, the oftener we return to certain thoughts and trails that lead us back to scenes and as- sociations enjoyed before. I like to mark passages in books I love, here and there, as I would blaze a tree to guide me to the haunt of a cool stream or a rare flower’s hiding-place. Whenever I turn to such passages, I find that time and season have expanded some new thought in my mind, even as they have developed the buds to full-grown flowers since my first journey through the wood. There is a beautiful cold spring under the hill near the swamps of Etchowog. I have known of it all my life, and were I to visit this region every day for “NVANOHT—,, jl Aq yysnosun saingsed yo-rey ur dn suyqqnq ore sdurds osoyy USYM “YA[VoY SI 107 STleq-(uinp SUISUIMS UPL B JO UIT ‘OTT Jo Sdutrds oy} JO Yorvas Ul OS ‘oasto1axo yos PpInOM Nod Jy,, ‘JUOUTIOA ‘TBUMOg ‘80MOYI}q JO S80q ou} IvdU ‘esnyjary jo ureyunoy sy 7 The Bogs of Etchowog 41 months, I should invariably be drawn unconsciously to this fountain. It is here that I quench my thirst and rest after wading through the neighboring swamps. I have turned many stones here in the past, and lifted the dead leaves from the choking throat of the spring. I have gathered the sundew growing in the moss fringing the banks; and in the sweet solitude and peace I have dreamed many dreams, inextricably min- gled with the music of the stream. To-day I sought this spring to rest. I bathed my face and combed my hair over Nature’s own mirror, after taking a generous draught from the sparkling water. It bubbles and gushes continuously from under the rocky hillside, bringing sand and delicate-hued pebbles to scatter in the bottom of its bowl the year round. I rested here a full hour, and rinsed the mud off my boots. From here it is but a short walk to Barber’s Mill at the foot of Pownal Pond. Alders, willows, shad-bushes and pink azaleas, small white birches, tamaracks, pines, and beautiful swamp or soft maples fill the broad expanse of marsh-land to the right; while the rocky, burnt-over, and blackened hillside rises up to the left. I was tempted into the deeper underbrush, but pro- ceeded very slowly, as the treacherous bog was so spongy with sphagnum that I would often sink from twelve to fifteen inches into its soft, pink depths. But here I felt secure, since there were many fallen trees and growing saplings to which I could hold and cling, in case I stepped into a ‘‘ dead hole.’’ 32 Bog-Trotting for Orchids Here, half buried in the moss, I found hundreds of crimson-veined Pitcher Plants, or Side-Saddle Flowers (Sarracenia purpurea), which bear olive-green, purple- veined, vase-like leaves that hold rainanddew. Often the species varies in color, and its absolute greenish- yellow with lighter green veinings. Many of the larger pitchers hold fully a tumbler of fluid. Their brilliant-hued brims are edged with crimson ridges, delicately coated with honey, thus enticing flies and moths to drink from the nectar beyond the brim. The more common prisoners are small flies and moths, but one day I found two dozen snails captive in the larger leaves of an ancient plant, for if once within, there is no escape even for snails. Consequently the Pitcher Plants—locally called St. Jacob’s Dippers and Dumb Watches by the children—are considered carnivorous plants, since they are flesh-eating by nature. This is also true of the small Round-leaved Sundew (Drosera rotundifolia). These plants are traps that not only cunningly entice, but actually entrap and slowly devour their victims. Sundew delights in being fed beefsteak, and Professor Bailey cites Darwin’s experiment of feeding them steak, which ‘‘ they accepted as readily as an insect.”’ ’ The Sundew is plentiful in these mossy bogs. It has red and white, dewy, bristling, round leaves, with long petioles spreading in a tuft. When a small fly or ant touches these sticky bristles or tentacles on the upper face of the leaf, the points of the outer row 1]. H. Bailey, Jr., Talks Afield, p. 128. 1885. Round-Leaved Sundew. (Drosera rotundifolia.) The Bogs of Etchowog 33 slowly turn inward, holding their prey closely until it is dead. Like the enticing honey of the Pitcher Plant, the viscid fluid of the Sundew attracts the flies, and, once alighted upon it, they become entangled and doomed to certain death. After drawing the juices from their victim or bits of steak, they relax and slowly regain their normal positions. The glands of these leaves send out drops of a clean, sticky fluid which glitter like dew drops inthe sunlight. The plant sends up a short spike of insignificant, whitish-green, bud-like flowers, which are said to open briefly one by one in their turn, each morning in the sunshine, till the whole spike has unfolded. Each flower turns brown and fades before the successive bud unfolds, so that there is never more than one full-grown flower to be seen ata time. This is not the case with the flowers of the Pitcher Plant. I found many crimson, ball-like buds sleeping tucked up in their mossy beds. They would be in their prime in a week or ten days. Here I discovered some fine specimens of the Pink Moccasin-Flower, and I was just about to pluck one, when behold—stretching at full length, basking in the sunshine on one of those sphagnous stump mounds, lay a snake, very near the coveted blossom. He may have been black or he may have been checkered or variegated and even charming and beautiful to the snake-hunter, but to the orchid-hunter he was not a prize worthy of a place in the vasculum. I did not wait to study or designate him or count his diamonds, 3 34 Bog-Trotting for Orchids but softly stole away, leaving him still cunningly sleep- ing, in waiting for prey, beside that gorgeous Moccasin- Flower. I now regarded with suspicion all the holes in the soft mounds of moss, as the possible homes of snakes, that might object to visitors in their Eden. Immense ant-hills were numerous, and the occupants may have afforded food for Satan’s prototype in his idle hours. Now and then the drum of a frightened partridge, giv- ing her alarum, assured me that her brood of chickens was hidden under the. leaves and logs not far distant. It is very probable that snakes in these bogs devour small birds and frogs, and lie in wait for them, as I found the one that I had seen this morning. Before continuing my search, I secured a hardwood staff, feeling safer with a cudgel of some kind in my hand, in case I met Satan face to face. In my tussle to sever the birch limb from the green tree, I snapped off all the Venus Slippers that I had actually gathered here. I was therefore no richer in actual specimens upon my departure from the swamp than when I en- tered it; but I carried away memories of that vast soli- tude and slumbering desolation where foot of man, I dare say, has seldom if ever been. Now well out of this swamp, I found myself on the edge of an apple orchard, filled with rosy bloom and the fragrance of happy May. A newly planted garden bore witness to human life, and the long rows of potato- hills spoke of industry. Passing through the gate, I entered the East Pownal Road near the mill, and walk- ‘SQOWANONY , SUIpDABAP OS JYBNY OP AC) ‘Wa 1,uU pynoys Kay f ‘JOINS IULYSUNS AC) ‘4p sv sdamoy {EO adp{ ay}, AJaAnNS BUIPDABOAJIA [0 TAOS V7 —¢ SaYf Pun sous puy SJUD PUD SANG S15] sunid apy ung g DAONVUADI MAU AY] jnNOQgY Apay J Svifi S, WY NM ,, (‘naindind DIMIIDAADG) “SIEM Quing puvy ‘sjuL[_ 191g pal[vo ATUOUTUIOD ‘syuR[q SNOIOAIUIBY OT, The Bogs of Etchowog 35 ing down the bank to the right, just north of the mill, where cobblestones had been dumped from the fields, I picked my way into the open Bogs of Etchowog, which lie directly east of the pond. I wandered up and down through this swamp, finding hundreds of Pitcher Plants, which had begun to nod their crimson buds. Clusters of the Showy Lady’s Slippers were springing up on the higher, drier mounds among the lily leaves of Clintonia borealis and Dog’s Tooth. Fleur-de-lis grew every- where, while the Poison Ivy flaunted its three-fingered palm on every side. Poison Sumach or Poison Dog- wood, sometimes known as Poison Elder, grows luxuriantly in this swamp, and susceptible people have been poisoned merely by passing above along the road- side. By wearing high hunting-boots and rubber or chamois gloves, however, I am perfectly safe in such places. In fact, I never think of these plants as poison- ous when brushing through the tangles of bushes and blossoming vines. These species of Rhus are in blos- som most of the summer. The juice of the plant is resinous, and the fruit consists of white or dun-colored berries. Going back to the roadside to rest, I took out my color-box and attempted to sketch the swamp I had just left. Eastward, rising boldly in the background, towered the Majestic Dome against the sky. In the middle distance, a long line of alders and willow shrubs blended softly into the blues, here and there dashed © with the crimson and gold swamp-maple buds; while 36 Bog-Trotting for Orchids still nearer, amid the low, grassy reeds and poison sumachs of the wet swamp, three tall, stately pines reared their shaggy green forms against the dark blue tones of the mountains, lending strength and balance to the scene. My day nearly spent, I packed away my colors, and started on my return trip, leaving the mill at the bend of the road at three o’clock. Just above the Kimball Farm, I came to a pent-road leading through the pastures to Ball Brook Farm, where I must go to get my Moccasin-Flowers, left hidden in the stream. I found them as fresh and fragrant as if just gathered. The walking was good, so I exchanged my high, heavy boots for low shoes, which were much more comfortable for dry paths and climbing hillside roads. Going directly up through the cow-pastures along the border of the Glen of Comus, I came upon a colony of Pink Moccasin-Flowers, growing on a sloping hill- side under low-spreading pines and birches. Although the spot was shaded, many flowers were unfolding, but they were not so deep in color as time and sunshine would paint them. I counted at least two hundred buds and blossoms, thinking what a feast for the eyes I should have another day, when they were in their prime. Later, as I turned into the Centre Road, I met Lorenna, one of the school children in District Four- teen. She, too, had her hands full of flowers. I asked her to keep a lookout for strange, small Moc- casin-Flowers, hoping thereby that she might find the "AVANOH L— cc SSOUTOP[IM OY} JO Sassedal oY} UlIey * * + Ter} SUvIpUy oy} pue yyed S,1a8Z0] 9 sy} ‘AjNvaq IOJ ynq ‘YASuor}s toy ATUO you ‘yey ‘sn puluer osoyy UOTPVATI[ND IOF ayVolap 00} sv peqosep Ayuouru09 4d [PARITY “OUT, 07 OUT? WOLZ “4sniU yood ‘yeod Jo ssvur ysopnio oy} UlOIy yUSUUTIYNHU ITaYyA 9 ‘SOSTYOIO OY} OAT] ‘stomoy a[Isviy ynq ‘seurd Ayjoze4s ‘WoursaA ‘TeuMog ‘aouRIsIG ey} UT eurod ay} SurmoYS ‘somoyd}q Jo s80g aul Allop Torus ATuo jou are arey Vly ye The Bogs of Etchowog 37 rare little Ram’s-Head (Cypripedium arietinum), for which I have so hopefully searched these woods in vain. I had found thus far all the representative species of the Moccasin-Flowers of this State, save the rarer Ram’s- Head. The name Ram’s-Head arose from the resemblance of this flower to that of a sheep’s or ram’s head, the conical or pouched-shaped shoe serving in certain po- sitions to remind the early Canadian children of the noses of frisky lambs’ heads, while the twistings of both sepals and petals answered for the ram’s horns. ‘This rare species was first collected in Canada near Montreal before 1808. In that year it was transplanted to Eng- lish gardens by Messrs. Chandler and Buckingham, where they had opportunity to study it closely. For some time it was known as Chandler’s Cypripedium. Finally, Mr. Robert Brown of England published a description of North American Orchids in Aiton’s Catalogue of Plants, in 1813, and he must have learned what the children first named it in Canada and Ver- mont, for he gave it the Latin name, Cypripedium arie- tinum, which it has ever since borne in the science. Artetinum signifies shaped like a ram’s head, and so one readily observes how the common names of plants suggest to the botanist the origin of the strange Latin names, which are in one sense but the explanations of the common names. I told Lorenna the story of this stray lamb, and she was as eager to find its trail asI was. The plant is shy at best, the flowers being of the most inconspicuous 38 Bog-Trotting for Orchids purple and white shades, found in cedar swamps and on the drier hillsides in mixed wood, of pine, chestnut, and birch. ‘Truth to tell, I was not familiar with the appearance of the plant, nor did I know at what date to search for the blossoms. After leaving Lorenna, I followed the road home- ward, reaching Mount C&ta at six o’clock, somewhat dusty and ragged and tired. Old Bonny and the buggy were now suggested as assistants in my trips, when the folk observed my load of herbs and flowers. But bog- trotting in a buggy is certainly beyond the limits of my imagination. It did, however, at that tired moment seem a favorable project, for Bonny and the buggy could wait for me by the roadside while I plunged into the marshes to secure my treasures. It is true, as Thoreau writes: ‘‘ we are but faint- hearted crusaders, even the walkers, nowadays, who undertake no persevering, never-ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tours, and come round again at evening to the old hearth-side, from which we set out. Half the walk is but retracing our steps.’’’ 1 Thoreau, ‘‘ Walking,” Excursions, p. 252. III The Haunts of the Ram’s-Head Moccasin-F lowers I call the old time back: I bring my lay In tender memory of the summer day When, where our native river lapsed away, We dreamed it over, while the thrushes made Songs of their own, and the great pine-trees laid On warm noonlights the masses of their shade. WHiITtIER, Wabel Martin. HE following morning, after my strenuous ex- cursion through the swamps of Etchowog, I was somewhat tired and stiffened, but still ready for a journey which must be made to North Adams, a distance of ten miles from Mount Gta. As it was Saturday, Lorenna’s mother would “soon be passing over the hill on her way to that city, with butter and eggs, so I decided to accompany her. Lorenna’s mother, formerly a teacher in District Four- teen in the neighborhood, had always considered my propensity for tramping through these bogs and wood- lands, searching for flowers, as rather ‘“‘ queer.’’ This habit, coupled with my fondness for the poets, led her to believe I had sustained some great sorrow,—perhaps the loss of a lover,—and in those early days she in- variably eyed me closely through her green goggles 39 40 Bog-Trotting for Orchids as I met her on the road. My evident annoyance and embarrassment under this scrutiny probably confirmed her suspicions. Nevertheless, she so far forgot her interest in this subject as to tell me to-day that Lorenna, on her way home with the cows the night previous, had found one of the strangest little flowers. None of them had ever seen the blossom before, nor did they know its name. She felt sure, however, that it belonged to the Nervine Family,—as they locally call the Moccasin-Flowers in many New England towns, —from the leaves and the little shoe-shaped flower. That evening, as soon as the sun sank in the west, and the cool hours of twilight came, I sought Lorenna’s house in the vale below Mount C&ta. As I sauntered through the fields, the distant sounds of Pownal’s church bells and the barking of dogs and the rolling wheels of the home-coming farmers’ wagons arose from the valley. Under my arm I had tucked Baldwin’s Orchids of New England, a book which I had drawn from the North Adams Library, with permission to keep it as long as I desired, the calls for such books being very infrequent. This work contains many illustrations of species of orchids found in the New England States, and more especially in Vermont, the author having made his excursions and collections of species near Burlington, in the northwestern portion of the State. Among the sketches is one of the Ram’s-Head Cypri- pedium,’ the species having been collected by him * Henry Baldwin, Orchids of New England, Plate 8, 1894. Ram ’s-Head Moccasin-Flowers 41 in cedar wood, in the neighborhood of Burlington, where he reports a colony of twenty plants.’ Arriving at Lorenna’s home, my hopes were realized, and I was introduced to the first fresh specimen I had ever seen of the Cypripedium arietinum. Tater I was shown the spot where the flower grew. I was hoping to find several plants, but was disappointed. I studied the soil and locality, however, which gave me the clue for fresh trails. We had followed a winding wood- road that led from the Centre Road into the deep pine forests on the Amidon Farm, where the ground was strewn with piny needles and glittering with the Stars- of-Bethlehem, Goldthread blossoms, and the Painted Wake Robins. The broken stem that had borne the conical shoe stood on a rocky hillside, at the base of a chestnut tree. A dwarfed pine seedling was also strug- gling to grow in the hard soil, among the fibrous roots of the Ram’s-Head. ‘The two had probably taken root there at the same time. We marked the spot, and sheltered the plant from the browsings of cows, by planting dead twigs near it. Before the evening was ended, Lorenna’s mother had discovered that others besides myself must have made excursions afield and abog for flowers and herbs, and no doubt at some time in their lives must have also read poetry and made sketches. She became very much in earnest over a text-book on botany, and de- sired Lorenna to have a child’s manual. Baldwin writes of the Ram’s-Head Cypripedium : 1 Henry Baldwin, Orchids of New England, p. 38, 1894. 42 Bog-Trotting for Orchids ‘In Northern New England, one is sometimes fortunate enough to gather with the Yellow Lady’s Slippers, especially with the dwarf species, the Ram’s-Head Lady’s Slipper (Cypripedium arietinum), the rarest species North America produces, and to me, the most attractive.’ ’ The flower is peculiarly conical in shape and slightly fragrant. Baldwin was the first botanist to discover a ‘‘musk-like odor’’ to the roots of this plant, which I also have observed. The structure of this species differs from all other known Cypripediums by pro- ducing six distinct parts to its perianth, all the sepals being free to the base. There is in the regular struct- ure of Cypripediums a union of the two lower sepals, usually showing a bifid condition at the apex, when not perfectly united, as shown, if closely studied, in some of the accompanying illustrations. The brown-pink sepals of the Ram’s-Head are all free, and, twisting gracefully, remind one of the horns of a sheep’s or ram’s head, while the apex of the labellum serves for the nose. The labellum is of a dull purplish color, mottled or checked with white veins upon the crest of the shoe. The apex or toe is of a dull brown- ish green, the orifice of the labellum is triangular, filled with downy white hairs, and not large enough to admit a baby’s finger-tip. The flower, however, varies, as does also the plant, in size, according to the soil and the age of plant, those found in damp cedar swamps being a foot or more in height, adorned with large 1 Henry Baldwin’s Orchids of New England, p. 37, 1884. The Ram’s-Head Lady’s Slipper. (Cypripedium arietinum.) In different positions this flower suggests a ram’s head. e{ 4-4 . BSE) ee eG ne a) re Ram’s-Head Moccasin-Flowers 43 flowers, while those along the hillsides are from six to ten inches high. This rare orchid is seldom, if ever, collected by botanists. It is one of the smallest Moccasin-Flowers found in the Northern Atlantic Region. The pigmy of the genus is Cypripedium fasciculatum, found under young Conzfers in open woods in the swamp regions of northern California, along the Pacific slope, exclu- sively west of the Continental Divide. The Cyprvipedia found in the Pacific Region are very different from those of the Atlantic, Cypripedium Californicum, for instance, producing a simple raceme bearing from three to twelve flowers, all emerging from the axils of leafy bracts, the stem often growing four feet high. The shoe-shaped flowers resemble miniature blossoms of our eastern . Cypripedium regine in color and structure of sepals and petals. The Ram’s-Head Cypripedium is certainly one of the rarest species on the continent, and appears to be more plentiful, if this word can be used of so scarce a flower, in the State of Vermont than in any other region that has been reported in its continental range. It grows in low, damp marl and peat swamps. IV The Stolen Moccasins Woodlands, green and gay with dew, Here, to-day, I pledge anew All the love I gave to you. ALICE CARY, A Lesson. HETHER the season is premature or backward, the Moccasin-Flowers always appear at the same date, along with the Painted and Crimson Trilliums, in the warm Glen of Comus. I am sure of finding these flowers unfolding, the week previous to Decoration Day, from the 2oth to the 28th of May. On the 30th of May, four days after I had discovered the famous two hundred Pink Moccasin buds on the hillside above the Glen of Comus, I imagined now that they must be in full array, wearing the rich hues of magenta and all the delicate tints of green, white, and pink. When once fully unfolded they change color very rapidly. Late in the afternoon I entered the edge of the Swamp of Oracles in District Fourteen, north of the schoolhouse. My hound was my sole companion, and I heard him in the distance making friends with children, whose voices came echoing from the direction of my fairy-land of Moccasins. A fore- 44 The Stolen Moccasins A5 boding that all its beauty had been plundered took possession of me, for I knew that children are instinc- tively selfish about flowers, and pluck every blossom they see, even though they may throw them away afterward. I picked my way carefully through the deeper swamp, around in the opposite direction, avoiding thus the children whom I heard approaching by way of the path, their arms laden, no doubt, with the blossoms I sought a sight of. Later my worst surmise was con- firmed. Not one Moccasin hung on its stem to tell the tale of the invasion. Here and there were strewn bruised leaves and stemless blossoms, prostrate on the hillside. I was sorely disappointed, and I exclaimed aloud to the echoing wood that it was a sin,—this steal- ing all the flowers and leaving none to mature and develop their seed pods for the continuance of the species to be enjoyed by future generations. ‘‘ And if I ever get hold of these youngsters,’’ I cried, ‘‘I ’Il tell them why!”’ The ‘‘ youngsters’’ happened to be cousins of mine who had caught the orchid mania from me, and what to them had always appeared ordinary Indian Moc- casins, or Lady’s Slippers, had now an added value and charm, since they were understood to belong to the Orchid Family. The very hint that I valued them caused strife among these children, eager to show me how many they also could gather in a day. As such treasures, they gathered them, hurrying homeward to tell me how many rare and beautiful orchids they had 46 Bog-Trotting for Orchids found. They wondered if I had been near the jungle, as they saw Major, my hound, during the afternoon. I admired their blossoms, now drooping and wilted and sadly bruised, but I never told them just where I had been, nor what I had missed. I had not the actual courage to scold them, since I had set the example for them, but although I find many flowers, I gather at random for mere pleasure very few. Indeed, there is no pleasure in making desolate these choice and hidden retreats of Nature. There are laws protecting the deer in the Green Mountains and the brook trout in their spawning season, but as yet there is no legal or moral protection to shield the flowering and fruiting season of rare flowers, especially orchids, so scarce in northern New England. Some of our orchids are already so rare, that in localities where, only a few years ago, I found them abundant, to-day hardly a trace of them remains. They have suffered from school children and commerce alike. People seek them selfishly for pleasure and study, while the drug trade demands many roots, and places fair value upon them as an inducement to col- lectors. ‘These roots are used for infusions, tinctures, and ointments,—a primitive Indian custom and one which, if continued on the present scale, must in time necessarily cease, through extinction of the rarer and most showy species of our native orchids. The country folk know the Lady’s Slippers of genus Cypripedium as the Nervine Family, valuing them as a nerve tonic. I have met a man who makes a busi- The Stolen Moccasins 47 ness of following trout streams, fishing and hunting through the swamps, searching for frogs, and rare roots and herbs in their season. He finds ready market for Ginseng, American Ipecacuanha, Hellebore, or Indian Poke, from which is obtained a powerful cardiac de- pressent, — Veratrum viride, and species of Cypripedium also produce our native drug American valerian, which takes the place of the European drug, procured from Valerian offinciallis. Snakeroot, Dogwood, and various other plants afford excellent tonics. One can readily understand, as Thomas Wentworth Higginson re- marks, ‘“‘ that many of our rarest flowers (in the vicin- ity of Boston) are being chased into the very recesses of the Green and White Mountains. The relics of the Indian tribes are supported by the Legislature at Martha’s Vineyard, while these precursors of the Indians are dying unfriended away.’’ * Where years ago the swamps were fairly rose-purple with waving blossoms of the Grass Pink (Limodorum tuberosum) and Rose Pogonia or Snake-Mouth (Pogonia ophioglossoides), this year I found so few that I could readily count them. I discovered the possible secret of this extinction in the fact that a native of Etchowog was offered by some florist or gardener fifty cents a bulb or plant for all the specimens he could secure. This was an inducement for the vandal, but Nature cannot restore her species as fast as man can uproot them and devastate their haunts. Whether this is the 'Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Zhe Procession of the Flowers, p. 47. 48 Bog-Trotting for Orchids true cause of extinction of these species in Pownal swamps I cannot ascertain beyond this inference; however, I am convinced that a small fortune has disappeared, estimated on the lost plants at fifty cents each. Nearly all of the public schools are instructing the children in drawing,—teaching them to study the wild flowers as they find each in its season. Educators in all nature study urge the children to bring fresh speci- mens, and thus unconsciously encourage the extinction of the rare species of plant life in general. The chil- dren of each district school thus hunting over a limited area, soon, with childish strife, collect all the first and fairest flowers in their path. By the close study neces- sary, however, for the child to produce a drawing of the flower and its structural parts, a valuable lesson may in time be learned. The story of fertilization, the necessity of the flower’s producing seeds in order to continue its successive gen- erations, will not be forgotten by the true nature stu- dent. But if the teacher were able to designate the rarer plants of her district, and teach her children the fatal results of continually gathering their flowers, she might awaken in the minds of the young people a higher reverence for the blossoms themselves, and scruples against depriving generations of children to come of their beauty. There is hardly a child in the first grade in our schools who cannot tell the story of the bee and the Moccasin-Flower, and why the wonderful lines and Min, The Pink Moccasin-Fiower. (Cypripedium acaule.) This is the only two-leaved Cypripedium found in the Atlantic region. It is closely allied with Cypripedium guttatum of Alaska and with Cypripedium fasciculatum of the Pacific slope. It is the most common species of this genus. The Stolen Moccasins 49 dots of pink and gold are inside the downy shoe, in- stead of making the outside the more showy. The first Moccasin-Flower which I found in Aurora’s Bog in North Adams I gave to Ray, a little lad of my acquaintance, and he happily and proudly carried it to his teacher. When he came home, he could tell me that all these inner decorations of pink and gold were dewy-tipped with sweets, and were called ‘‘ Honey Guides,’”’ just to invite bees within. And that al- though Master Bee goes through the front door of the Moccasin cottage, he somehow finds it locked when he wishes to escape, so in his excitement has to squeeze through the small back door next to the pollen-masses. He carries forth some of the pollen, and thus helps to fertilize the next blossom of this species, as he enters and rubs off the grains of pollen on the adhesive lobes of the viscid stigma. Insects thus are not permitted to rob the flowers of nectar and pollen without making a return for the food which the flower yields them. Were it not for the bees and moths and various flies, the seeds of orchids would not mature, for it is a gen- erally accepted fact that nearly all species of this family, wherever found growing, depend upon insect aid for fertilization and cross-fertilization. With the exception of one or two North American species of genus Hlabenaria, all other native species are aided by insects. These two species, Habenaria hyperborea and flabenaria clavellata, were, according to both Gray and Darwin, supposed regularly to fertilize themselves without aid of insects. 4 50 Bog-Trotting for Orchids As the spikes of the Tall Green Orchis (Habenaria hyperborea) are frequent in the Pownal swamps, in company with the Showy Lady’s Slipper, I became interested in this plant, so independent of Master Bee or Moth. Professor Asa Gray, in various papers on fertilization of our native orchids, has said that they were all arranged for fertilization by the aid of insects, and that very few were capable of unaided self-fertilization. He tested several species, and proved that it might occur by accident, but in general his two self-fertilized species of Habenaria were still an unsolved problem, as later developments have proven in the case of his supposed self-fertilized species, Habenaria hyperborea, which he asserted ‘“‘ habitually fertilized itself.’’ At least this species, although it may be fully equipped for self-fertilization, has been reported quite recently to be visited and fertilized by mosquitoes, proving that not in all instances is it found ‘“‘ habitually fertilizing ’’ itself.’ In August, 1899, Professor C. A. Crandall, of the Agricultural College of Colorado, with a party of tourists camped on Medicine Bow Range, in that State, at an altitude of 10,200 feet, and observed abnormally developed mosquitoes bearing pollen-grains, which re- sembled those of Habenarea hyperborea ; and so they proved to be, by subsequent experiments with speci- mens of this orchis gathered from a bog near by their camp.’ 1 Gray, Fertilization of Orchids, in Sill. Journ. 1862-1863. °C, A. Crandall, Plant World, p.6. Jan., 1900. The Stolen Moccasins 51 Another species of this genus, which is almost iden- tical with the Tall Green Habenaria just mentioned, differs from it by bearing fragrant white flowers not adjusted for self-fertilization. This beautiful plant, flabenarea dilatata, grows sparingly in the choice haunts of the deeper Bogs of Etchowog, seeking fre- quently the pools near cold springs, and attracting nu- merous flies and moths by its rich perfumes, which one scents long before he discovers the flowers themselves. Darwin mentions ten self-fertilized species of orchids for the whole world, and adds to that list ten more which were partially so, in case the proper insects failed to visit these plants in season. He again asserts: ‘‘In my examination of orchids, hardly any fact has struck me so much as the endless diversities of the structure, —the prodigality of re- sources,—for gaining the very same end, namely, the fertilization of one flower by pollen from another plant. This fact is to a large extent intelligible on the principle of natural selection.”’ ' Of the self-fertile species, Darwin remarks: “‘ It de- serves especial attention that the flowers of all self-fertile species still retain various structures which, it is im- possible to doubt, are not adapted for insuring cross- fertilization, though they are now rarely or never brought into play. We may therefore conclude that all these plants are descended from species or varieties which were formerly fertilized by insect aid.’’ ? 1 Darwin, Fertilization of Orchids, p. 284. 1895. * TGed., p. 29%. 52 Bog-Trotting for Orchids Darwin believed that, ‘‘ bearing also in mind the larger number of species in many parts of the world which from this same cause are seldom impregnated, we are led to believe that the self-fertilized plants formerly de- pended on the visits of insects for their fertilization, and that, from such visits failing, they did not yield a sufficiency of seed and were verging towards extinction. Under these circumstances, it is probable that they were gradually modified, so as to become more or less completely self-fertile; for it would manifestly be more advantageous to a plant to produce self-fertilized seeds rather than none at all or extremely few seeds.’’ ’ Darwin questions: “‘ Whether any species which is now never cross-fertilized will be able to resist the evil effects of long-continued self-fertilization, so as to sur- vive for as long an average period as the other species of the same genera which are habitually cross-fertilized, cannot of course be told. . . . Itis indeed possible that these self-fertile species may revert in the course of time to what was undoubtedly their pristine con- dition, and in this case their various adaptations for cross-fertilization would be again brought into action.”’ ” Indeed, the more this great scientist studied these strange flowers, the more he became impressed, and “‘with ever-increasing force, that the contrivances and beautiful adaptations slowly acquired through each part occasionally varying in a slight degree but in many ways, with the preservation of those variations which were beneficial to the organism under complex ' Darwin, Fertilization of Orchids, p. 292. 1895. *Lbid. The Tall White Northern Orchis (Habenaria dilatata), Near Arethusa’s Spring, Bogs of Etchowog, Pownal, Vermont. The Stolen Moccasins ve: and ever-varying conditions of life, transcend in an in- comparable manner the contrivances and adaptations which the most fertile imagination of man could invent.”’? The extinction of species of orchids is due to causes inharmonious with Nature, therefore, more than to the failure of the insects in fertilization and cross-fertiliza- tion. Man and his bush-whack and bog-hoe are doing more toward the extinction of our rarer species of all plant-life in their continental range than any other natural element, in the swampy, mountainous districts of the East, as well as in the open swells on the prairies of the West. The late Grant Allen expressed regret that the native Yellow Lady’s Slipper of England, Cypripedium »”) calceolus, “‘ lingers in but two places,’’ one of those stations being on ‘‘a single estate in Durham, where it is as carefully preserved by its owner as if it were pheasants or fallow-deer.’’ The wind, rains, and flowing streams, the birds, as well as migration and immigration of the nations over the world, are ever unconscious bearers of the seeds of our rare flowers and common dooryard weeds; yet for the rarer species Nature is indebted to the insects for the important process of cross-fertilization. In country towns of New England, where summer resorts for tourists are numerous, one finds youthful venders selling the roots of the Orchid Family to ** lovers of flowers,’’ and thus even the lovers of Nature ' Darwin, Fertilization of Orchids, pp. 285-286. 1895. 54 Bog-Trotting for Orchids aid in the extinction of the treasures and wealth of her soil. Species of Cypripedium are indeed the most gorgeous among our native orchids, and will be among the first of the family to become extinct, since they do not re- produce seedlings abundantly, even in their most choice haunts. Vv The Queen of the Indian Moccasin- Flowers The rounded world is fair to see, Nine times folded in mystery ; Though baffled seers cannot impart The secret of its laboring heart, Throb thine with Nature’s throbbing breast, And all is clear from east to west. EMERSON, /Vature. ETWEEN May 30th and June 8th, I made short excursions to the Bog of Oracles above the Glen of Comus. On the latter date I found my first blossoms of the season, of the Showy Queen of the Moccasin-Flowers (Cypripedium regin@), the white sepals and petals standing fully un- furled, but still lacking the rich magenta-pink on the crest of the slippers which another week’s time would give them. One feature this season, among these plants, was the unusual number of two buds on a single scape. While a single blossom is generally found on a stalk, I discovered now that nearly every other stem bore two buds. At the same time and in the same place, along the edges of decaying logs on the borders of Ball Brook, grew the spikes of the Tall Green Orchis (H/abenaria 55 56 Bog-Trotting for Orchids hyperborea). Its greenish-yellow color is conspicuously different from the tones of its distant relative, the showy, white-petaled queen of this swamp. Another spike similar to that of the Tall Green Orchis, but short and smaller in every way, stood near. It was not so tall and coarse as its sister species, and may have been a stray specimen of the Tall White Habe- naria (Habenaria dilatata). "These two species are peculiar in appearance, and many inexperienced bog- hunters would pass them by as weeds, and homely weeds at that. Upon closer scrutiny, the peculiar twisted seed-pods of these flowers suggest a rarity. The name Habenaria signifies ‘‘a rein or thong,’’ derived from the shape of the labellum in some species of this genus. ‘They are often also called ‘‘ Rein-Orchises.”’ On June 1oth I drove into the Chalk Pond region, on the ‘‘ Witch Hollow,’’ or Gulf Road leading to the Centre-of-the-Town; and hitching old Bonny, took a circle around the peat and marl meadows, searching for signs of the Showy Orchis (Orchis spectabilis), a species of a sister genus of Habenaria. The Showy Orchis is due here about May 25th, the date on which the early Moccasin-Flowers awaken. Four species of this genus unfold upon almost the same day. ‘The Ram’s-Head Cypripedium should bloom first, according to general reports of botanists, the Pink Acaule immediately follows, and the Larger Yellow Moccasins, and, at the same time, the Small Yellow Fragrant Slippers unlace their beautiful twist- The Showy Orchis. (Orchts spectal The first orchid of the spring, found near the rocky borde East Pownal, Vermont. Queen of Moccasin-Flowers 57 ing petals. The Showy Orchis is supposed to be the first orchid of the spring to blossom in New England. I discovered nothing in the Chalk Pond meadows, however, save that it was one of the most charming little corners in the town, showing deep erosions about its terraced basin, proving that the ice-currents of the past flowed through these gulfs with terrible force. I have found the Large Yellow Moccasin-Flower growing in close relationship with the dwarf fragrant species (Cypripedium parviflorum), in the Swamp of Oracles, in District Fourteen, about May 25th; while they appear later in the upland woods,—from June 6th until June 25th. They grow, as will be observed, along high, rocky hillsides as well as in damp, sphag- nous marshes. ‘The upland species are often found in open clearings on hillsides, among the dead brushwood heaps, where grow the Maiden-Hair and Christmas Ferns. Often they are in full sight, but sometimes they are hidden under small hazel-nut bushes, amid sapling white birches. There seem to be three different forms of the Yellow Cypripediums, although there are but ¢wo accepted dis- tinct North American species north of Mexico; these appear also to intergrade frequently. Close associa- tion of habitat has probably something to do with this cross-fertilization of the two species. Finding the two marsh plants, Cypripedium hirsu- tum and Cypripedium parvifiorum, growing side by side in the Swamp of Oracles, I observed a marked 58 Bog-Trotting for Orchids intergrading, the larger species, Cypripedium hir- sutum, producing variegated sepals and petals, or possibly now and then a brown- pink petal or sepal, imitating the type species of the smaller Moccasin- Flower. Both species were fragrant in a slight degree, Cypripedium parviflorum being, of course, the more fragrant of the two. There is an European Yellow Cypripedium (Cyfr7- pedium calceolus) which is almost identical with the smaller species of North America, Cypripedium parvt- florum. As early as 1760, Cypripedium calceolus was described and illustrated in color in Philip Miller’s Figures of Plants. VLinnzeus, 1740, gave the European yellow species the present generic and specific designa- tion. Any history relating to that species of Lady’s Slipper, as it was first known in Europe by Dodoens as early as 1616 under the title of Calceolus Marianus, will also pertain to the history of the two closely allied Yellow Cypripediums found in North America. The common English name ‘‘ Lady’s Slipper’’ arose from the Latin M/arianus, referring to ‘‘ Our Lady,’’ the Virgin Mary, while Calceolus is the Latin for shoe or slipper. Linnzeus, however, in 1740, being a de- vout Lutheran, objected to this species being dedicated to the Mother of Christ, and re-established the custom of dedicating the names of flowers to gods and god- desses of classical mythology known before Christ. The origin of the generic name Cypripedium is from the two Greek words Kuzpis, an ancient name for Venus, and 200101, a sock, buskin, or slipper. - Queen of Moccasin-Flowers 59 Venus, in classical literature, was also known as ‘Our Lady,’’ the ‘‘ Divine Mother’’ of the Romans, so that the common name has never in reality changed since 1616, when it was first applied to these shoe- shaped flowers of Europe, in honor of Mary, ‘‘ Our Lady,’ the ‘‘ Divine Mother’’ of all nations. The Algonquin Indians, in their forests of Northeast- ern North America, saw this same shoe-shape resem- blance in these flowers, and called them Wawcahsun or Makkasin-Flowers, since they reminded them of little Indian Moccasins. Thus arose the common name In- dian Moccasin-Flowers for all our native species of Cypripedium. Lady’s Slipper is distinctly of Euro- pean origin, while Moccasin-Flower is most appropri- ately American, since this name was given by the first inhabitants of our shores, as it were, in mythological days. May the name of the Indian’s Moccasin-Flower pass down through the coming centuries in honor of a race that will disappear long before these flowers, which they christened so appropriately. I have never thus far found the Dwarf Fragrant Moccasin-Flower, an upland flower, which Higginson describes as growing on the “‘ Rattlesnake Ledge’’ on ‘“Tatessit Hill,’’* in the neighborhood of Boston. The larger yellow species, Cypripedium hirsutum, grows in the Hoosac Valley high on the steep sides of the Domelet, while the smaller species seeks the deep- est parts of the Swamp of Oracles and Aurora’s Bog. 'Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Zhe Procession of the Flowers, p. 17. 60 Bog-Trotting for Orchids I have collected it also in damp, marshy woods in Mosholu, near New York City. The Large Yellow Moccasin-Flower seems, of the two yellow species, the more generally distributed over the continent, although most botanists state that the smaller species is the commoner. The dwarf yellow species is certainly the rarer plant in New England. In the Hoosac Valley, particularly in Pownal swamps, it is quite as rare as the Ram’s-Head Cypripedium. I have discovered only one swamp #€we where it grows. It will be of interest to make note of two species of our Eastern Cypripediums, which extend nearly to the Arctic Circle northward, as well as adjusting them- selves southward near the Tropic of Cancer. One of these species is the Large Yellow Moccasin-Flower, reported as found associated with the Pink Acaule, in latitude 54° to 60° North, by Dr. John Richardson on Captain Franklin’s journey to the Arctic lands in 1823." Dr. F. Kurtz, in an Arctic Expedition in 1882, col- lected the large yellow species, Cypripedium hirsutum * of the Atlantic Region, as well as Cypripedium passer- inum, which is endemic only to the Northern Pacific Region. Cypripedium hirsutum also extends from New England westward much farther than the pink species, Cypripedium acaule. The dwarf yellow, Cypripedium parviflorum, closely follows the larger yellow species 1John Richardson, M.D., Bot. Appendix, Report of Frank- lin’s Fourney, 20 ed., p. 34, 1823. *Dr. F. Kurtz, List of Alaskan Orchids, Expedition 1882. The Small Yellow Fragrant Moccasin-Flower. (Cypripedium parviflorum.) The only really fragrant Cypripedium of the Atlantic region, closely allied with Cypripedium Montanum,—the Fragrant White Lady’s Slipper of the Pacific slope. The plate shows the undulating sepals and petals as well as their rich brown-pink coloring. The two lower sepals are imperfectly united and are bifid at the apex. This species is almost identical with the European species Cypripedium calceolus,— the first Cypripedium described by Linnues in 1740-1753. Queen of Moccasin-Flowers 61 both southward and westward, but according to the stations reported to the author for the continent, it cannot be said to have the broader range of the two species. The Dwarf White Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium candidum) may also be counted with Ram’s- Head Cypripedium as one of the rare species of the Northern Atlantic Region. It is seldom found in the New Eng- land States. In the range reported to the author for this species, there is but one New England station. This has been given by A. W. Driggs of East Hart- ford, Connecticut.’ This orchid belongs more espe- cially to the damp swells of the prairie. It is very similar to the Dwarf Yellow Cypripedium, except in color, and like it produces a faint fragrance. This dainty white shoe is often no larger than the tiny Ram’s-Head flower, the plant being about six to ten inches high, bearing small waxen shoes, the shape of the blossoms of Cypripedium parviflorum. I have often received descriptions from country lads, suppos- edly of these White Moccasin-Flowers, only to find that they were either a/dzzos, or bleached out and pale specimens of the gorgeous colored Cypripedium regine. Often the latter seem pure white to the hurried observer in the swamps, for the albino or white variety rarely occurs. I found one plant, however, this season bear- ing two blossoms, the first I ever saw, and I removed the plant to watch it in my garden. After Decoration Day, I had all I could do to keep 1A. W. Driggs, Catalogue Plants of Connecticut, p. 19. Igot. 62 Bog-Trotting for Orchids pace with the unfolding flowers in the woods on Mount Cita. In the Chestnut Woods and Rattle- snake Swamp region, near Lloyd Spring, and along the mountain sides of the Knubble and Domelet, I found beautiful azalea shrubs laden with luxuriant clusters of fragrant pink flowers. These open woodlands be- come brilliant with these rose-colored blossoms. ‘The Large Yellow Moccasin - Flower was here too, with violets, Stars -of- Bethlehem, and innumerable pink blossoms of Cypripedium acaule growing along the side hill, shining out from every corner. All at once, these nearer woodlands had unfurled their banners of spring, and now, ‘‘ With blossom, and birds, and wild bees’ hum,’’ they held me from the more distant Bogs of Etchowog. On the 14th of June, however, I decided to take old Bonny and the buggy, and drive to these bogs to see if any Pogonias and Limodorums were budded as yet amid the grasses of the open cranberry marsh. Bonny hitched to the old buggy, my faithful old Major at my side, and I, with my vasculum for rare flowers, a basket containing drinking glass, carving knife, and bog-hoe for gathering special roots, started down the hill on an easy trot toward Pownal Pond. As I passed School Fourteen, I was cheered and hailed by the children, who shouted, ‘‘ Going a-flowering ?”’ I nodded ‘“‘ Yes,’’ with a ‘‘ Get-ty up’’ to old Bonny, who had thought I wished to visit along the way. It was warm and dusty, and whenever I could, I drove through the streams which crossed the road, in The Small White Moccasin-Flower. (Cypripedium candidum.) This species is especially an orchid of the damp swells of the prairie, growing 1n company with the Painted Cup and Iris ‘© There, I think, on that lonely grave, Violets spring in the soft May shower; There, in the summer breezes, wave Crimson phlox and moccasin flower.”’ BRYANT. Queen of Moccasin-Flowers 63 order to swell the felly, and thus tighten the tires to my rattling wheels. Although I felt that by driving along the highway I was losing much beauty that was un- folding in the fields and fence corners, I found this method of progress quite comfortable. How these East Pownal bogs came by the musical name of Litchowog, I am not quite certain; nor do I know exactly what it means. It may have come from a primitive language of a mythological age for all I know, or it may have come from the Itch- Weed or Indian Poke and Poison Rhus, which cause much irri- tation of the skin. Iam safe in saying that it is a corruption of the Indian’s Greek and Latin words for ‘‘itch’’ and “‘ bog,’’— at least this etymology quite suits the designation of these swamps. Ever since I can remember I have heard the older folk of the town call it Etchowog. I have associated the region with rare flowers, orchids, pollywogs, snapping-turtles and mud-holes, together with the schoolhouse in District Thirteen, where the good people hold Advent meetings, and set the dates for the world to come to anend. To me it seems one of the brightest, richest of swamps, full of ‘‘ Bottomless Dead Holes,’’ where only bull-frogs peep and trill and croak the whole season through, till their notes blend with the chirp and whirr of the autumn crickets. At the Barber Mill, I hitched Bonny to a fence-post and started on my excursions. I looked through the open meadow east of the mill to see if I could find any rose-colored Pogonias and Grass-Pinks. There was as 64 Bog-Trotting for Orchids yet no sign of them; so I came back to the mill and turned in through the bars, on the north side of the pond, where I followed a grassy path around the hill to the treacherous Cranberry Swamp farther north- ward, where I had been cautioned not to wander alone. Sounding the margin of the marshy meadow, I found quaking and unstable ground. With a ten-foot pole I probed the depths of the mud, and found it unfathomable, and no signs of fervva firma about it. Pickerel-weed, eel-grass, frog’s-bit, and the leaves of arrow-head grew about the pools. I could not very well find an entrance here, unless for a permanent resi- dence. So going northward along the west shore of this mud-pond, I came to a place which promised fair and safe walking, with my waterproof boots for pro- tection. At first I felt my way very cautiously, then grew bolder and forgot that I was in a» dangerous place, for the farther I advanced, the firmer and drier and more enchanting became the field of my vision. Before me opened a wide expanse of meadow-land, where even unruly cows dared not wander, and man seldom ventured to trespass. Nature’s remote solitude indeed was peacefully hidden here. No human voices nor sounds of hay-making ever echoed over these luxuriant fields, and the grasses grew sweetly, to fall untouched to earth again, mown as it were by the au- tumn winds, and stored beneath the drifts of November snow, to lay, in time, one more thin coat of soil upon the unplumbed depths of this ancient lake bed. Dur- ing some long-ago winter, some one had ventured here Queen of Moccasin-Flowers 65 while the earth was frozen and safe, and had built a homely hedge-fence through the meadow, probably to keep the cattle pasturing hereabout away from the dangerous bog. This fence was the only visible trace of man. In its tumbled-down and overgrown condition, it became a part of Nature’s self, and added to the picturesqueness of the field. Although Rafinesque says ‘‘that he hates the sight of fences like the In- dians,’’ to me the hedge-fence is one of the wildest and most primitive of forest barriers. Indeed, it must have originated with the veritable wild man himself. I was tempted on and still farther on through the meadow, by the brilliant crimson-purple blossoms of the Pitcher Plant, or Side-Saddle Flowers, so named on account of the hard shells of the stigma of these flowers resembling the padded cushions of a lady’s an- cient side-saddle. This cushion was known as the ‘“‘pillion.’” The more common name in this locality for these flowers is St. Jacob’s-Dippers and Dumb- Watches, children playing with the hard shells of the stigmas left after the purple petals have fallen, calling them watches. The convex surface of the stigma does indeed resemble the face of a watch, although there are no hands to point the hour. Gay blossoms of Fleur- de-lis flaunted their gaudy petals, and many times de- ceived me by making me imagine that I spied the Purple-Fringed Orchises in the distance, waving amid the tall grasses. Here I dreamed away an hour or more, following out some little paths, worn perhaps by the muskrats or 5 66 Bog-Trotting for Orchids swamp minks or wicked weasels, or perchance by the tiny feet of the meadow-moles, who apparently had blindly rooted various underground tunnels in every direction. I can fancy them all trotting swiftly along, playful at times, yet with an eye to their affairs,—quite as important in the scheme of Nature and Science as are the brokers’ studied operations in Wall Street. The weasels and minks are the terrors of the other path-holders in this natural syndicate. They are in- deed the high and dreaded trust officials of the lesser and blind rooters of the earth. Tangled vines of the marsh cranberry were now in full bloom, and at the same time the soft fruit of last autumn’s crop was present on the vines, still bright crimson, even after enduring the winter’s frosts and stubborn snows. Looking northward to see what fields lay unexplored beyond me, I realized the remoteness of this region slumbering amid these glacial hills. To my right tow- ered the Dome, the highest mountain of Pownal, ofa bluish-green tone, against the sky. Nearer, graceful elms, tall pines, and numerous low pointed, lighter green tamarack trees lifted their spires, and adorned the dis- tant meadow; while in the wide expanse on the west side, along the edges of the swamp, rose the giant forms of elm and pine, and tall, lithe trees of the swamp maple, flashing forth their crimson and gold blossoms, reminding me of the coloring of autumn leaves. The nearer marsh was rich with tasselled grasses and blos- soming vines, dotted here and there with the cardinal Queen of Moccasin-Flowers 67 buds of the Pitcher Plant and the purple Fleur-de-lis. It seemed a land of dreams. The air vibrated with the happy, mellow song of birds, interspersed with the ever-present lesser sounds of deep solitudes. Major, like me, at first, was cautious where he wandered, but once amid the various haunts of wild creatures of the wood, he caught the happy spirit of the hound, frisking and studiously following the paths of the wild little animals to the very doors of their homes. To test the land, I stood and deliberately shook the foundation of the earth. All the blossoming ground about me, for at least fifteen feet distant, trembled as if it were so much jelly. Yet the spot was honey- combed and dry on the surface, there having been little rain in this region during the month. I now sought the western hillside path, and bearing northwestward around the border of the swamp, I occasionally ventured in and out along the edges of the meadow bushes. Finally I reached the swamp maples, which I had observed from the interior, and I secured a good-sized branch of the gold and crimson clusters to carry off with my load of treasures. On every hand, out of the small, muddy pools of water, rose the leaves of the Buckbean (Wenyanthes trifoliata). 'The beauti- ful spikes of white-bearded flowers were turning brown with age, and the plants were setting their bullet-like seed-pods. Now and then, beneath the low, shaggy pines, I found the humble Pink Moccasin - Flower (Cypripedium acaule), which I hailed as a sign that 68 Bog-Trotting for Orchids the Showy Queen of the genus might dwell not far distant. Knowing the favorite haunts which this orchid seeks, I searched through all the dark corners of the swamp. At the extreme northwestern portion of the region, I entered a dense shaded corner about fifty feet square, where were many springs soaking through the sphagnum to the deeper fields of the interior which I had so lately left. Here were numerous decaying pine and tamarack logs, low sapling willows tangled amid the small scrubby spruces and tender pines, which were striving against the greater natives of the forest to lift their spires as high as possible; but however eager they were, they had not attained a height above ten or fifteen feet at most. Many were already dis- couraged or had died in the competition, and their wasting forms were still standing with broken and weather-worn trunks and limbs. Tall brakes and Indian Poke ran riot among the deeper mounds of moss, which covered the decaying roots of the long wasted primeval pitch pines. The dark, sluggish pools reflected weirdly the ferns and trees above them. Shooting up from these piles of sphagnum, I found at least fifty plants of the Showy Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium regine). "They were pregnant with slumbering buds, and would surely be in full blossom by June 20th. Happy over my good fortune at locat- ing another station for this species, I prepared to bend my footsteps toward my horse and buggy, — glad in- The Queen of the Indian Moccasin-Flowers. (Cypripedium regine.) From the Bogs of Etchowog, Pownal, Vermont. - ‘ . Hie 7 ; s Np ae 4° Neen ee = Abe ol eer Bi ae Pp . ehpa fey: d ‘ wt - 4 Queen of Moccasin-Flowers 69 deed to know that I would not be obliged to walk home, laden as I was with Pitcher Plant roots and various other shrubs and vines. Near the mill, just north of the little bay in the pond, I found quantities of the Yellow Pond Lily or Spatter-Dock (ymphea advena) just beyond my reach. Securing a long willow sapling with a tender end, I tied it into a loop, and stepping out into the shallow edges of the pond to an old pine log, I snared off several of these golden cups, which the children call Cow-Lilies. I floated them in to the shore, where I soon gathered them up and packed them in my vas- culum. A glance into the water along the edges of the old log revealed thousands of tiny pollywogs or tadpoles, as well as half-formed frogs, the hind legs beginning to put forth on the large tadpoles. Here, basking in the sunshine, were lizards, snails, leeches; and various species of small fish were sporting in the shallow waters. Perch, suckers, and eels are plentiful in Pow- nal Pond, which is locally called Perch Pond, from the abundance of perch found in its waters. These fish seemed to seek this sheltered arm of the pond to leave their young fry under the sheltering lily-pads. Near the projecting stumps, amid floating logs were snails’ eggs, and I noticed several baby turtles, recently hatched from eggs in the sand, varying from the size of nickels to that of a silver dollar. Eel-grass and many marsh grasses and sedges grew or floated on the water, among which the small fish could hide. 70 Bog-Trotting for Orchids On the edge of the water among the ferns and brakes I found the leaves of the Purple-Fringed Orchis (Habe- naria psycodes), but no plants likely to bloom this season. When I reached the mill, I placed my treasures in the buggy, and started after that part of my load which I had left around the hill. On my return, I gathered some waxen, crimson cones of the beautiful tamarack tree by the path. When I bade farewell to little Mer- win and his mother, who lived in the miull-house, I asked them to watch for the rose- purple orchids, — Pogonias and Limodorums,— which were now due any day, east of the mill. The boy was very earnest and observing, and I knew that I now had a comrade to guard over the Bogs of Etchowog. Students from Williams College, and tourists from near and afar seek these swamps of Pownal for bo- tanical specimens, and Merwin had often been their guide to the haunts of these rare treasures. He told me that students from Williams had, the year before, gathered innumerable pink and purple flowers in these marshes, as well as the beautiful bearded spikes of the Buckbean. For a succession of years—during all of President Carter’s term at Williams College at least—it has been the unique custom to bank the chancel of the Congre- gational Church with the Showy Moccasin-Flowers and Maiden-Hair Ferns, on Baccalaureate Sunday,— which occurs usually about June twentieth. ‘These gorgeously colored orchids reach the height of their Queen of Moccasin-Flowers 71 perfection about this date. They seem a fitting dec- oration for the church during the Commencement ser- vices of this college, situated in the heart of these Hoosac Highlands. Plentiful as are the colonies of this Showy Moccasin- Flower in its pet localities, it has always been an in- teresting question to me where the great numbers of perfect blossoms grouped about the chancel are secured. They are known to the children in each school district, and usually they are collected as soon as discovered. It is surprising to me that extinction of this rare plant is not taking place more rapidly hereabout. This orchid produces very few seedlings in its native haunts, and at the rate of collecting both its blossoms and roots in this valley, we must surely look for total extinction in less than half a century more, unless this ruthless plucking is modified. VI Hail-Storms at Etchowog : Suddenly, a flaw Of chill wind menaced ; then a strong blast beat Down the long valley’s murmuring pines and awoke The noon-dreams of the sleeping lake, and broke Its smooth steel mirror at the mountain’s feet. WHITTIER, Storm on Lake Asquam. N June 21st, with Major I walked down through the Swamp of Oracles in District Fourteen, along Ball Brook to the Kimball Farm bogs, and so on once more to the Bogs of Etchowog and the new colony of Regine—the queen of the Indian Moccasin-Flowers—which I had so recently discovered in Cranberry Bog north of the pond. I found prime blossoms all along the tiny path, in the course of the stream through the deeper parts of Glen of Comus, and in the Kimball Bogs, and I was in hopes of finding them in the swamps of Etchowog. As I passed through the sphagnous meadows east of Kimball’s barns, around the hillside path to Are- thusa’s Fountain, I noticed several flowers of the Cypripedium I was seeking, and recognized the leaves and green-budded spikes of Habenaria psycodes, which. would later, when fully in bloom, change to a delicate purple. 72 The Small Purple-Fringed Orchis. (Habenaria psycodes.) MR ey oer ey Ae MN, Borah a 2) 1 * J ‘ c * é » w¥ ' . i - . - P ‘ \ * ‘ - . a . 7.) . - - . - * . . 7 « ' ‘ Ls . ’ * bd * ; ¥ ‘ 4 be te “a Par j f - 4 a ‘ . ® . > v« . - “i Ass i. - * +a rab 5 ‘ 8 ‘ . oF oN if ‘. . f : aw bel ps .¥ Hail-Storms at Etchowog 72 I made use of the fence boards to walk through the muddy portions of my path. I had learned by former experiences here to avoid the ‘‘dead holes.’’ Stepping on some boards just above a muddy pool, and suddenly turning, I was happily surprised to see many spikes of the Tall White Northern-Orchis (Habenaria dilatata) standing near. The air was full of their rich perfume, and many small flies and moths hovered around them, sipping the nectar. I gathered a few spikes, and went on to the cool spring beyond, finding meanwhile an abundance of wild strawberries along the borders of my path. These were very large from growing in the moist shade. On the hillside, up which I climbed to the west for a short distance, I found pretty leaves of grasses, delicate emerald in color, growing in a triangular form, and resembling lily leaves. I had heard distant thunder rolling off to the north- west, and it caused me to hasten onward. My rest, therefore, at the spring was brief to-day; although so far away from home, I was not so far from shelter, and the thought of a shower was welcome, for the air was sultry. As I neared the open swamp, beyond the mill, the storm made rapid strides, but I wandered up and down the meadow long enough to assure myself that this season the Pogonias and Limodorums were not in bloom on time. Large drops of rain began to fall from the black clouds, and as I hurried toward the shelter of the mill, I met Merwin and his mother returning to their home. 74 Bog-Trotting for Orchids They motioned me to join them. As I did so, great gusts of wind dashed over us, and suddenly huge hail- stones pelted the earth. Leaves and small twigs and young apples fell on every side, while the half-grown . nuts from the Butternut-tree (/ug/lans cinerea), in the dooryard, were soon stripped away, with the leaves and broken limbs of the tree. Some of the hailstones were the size of small hen’s-eggs, perfect, oval ices which might have been turned out of glass moulds. Soon the air became very chilly, as during the first snow on a damp November day, while the ground was white with hailstones. This abrupt change in the at- mosphere from heat to extreme cold caused untimely deaths in the chicken yard. ‘The old mother hen lost her head completely, and unable to find shelter in the barn because of the banging doors, she put her head in a crevice while her brood ran about and perished with cold or were killed by the stones. Merwin’s mother sadly watched the devastation of her little garden, and the death of her chickens. It was impossible to go to their rescue without danger to our own heads. This storm continued about two hours, alternating now and then with a calm, to return again and again with sudden fury. At the end of that time, although it still rained sadly, I started for home, knowing that with rubber boots I could wade, if neces- sary, through any ordinary streams. The weather had turned so cold that an icy coating covered the meadow grass and the borders of the road, and promised not to melt away in haste. Hail-Storms at Etchowog 75 As I neared Kimball Farm, where Ball Brook meets Thompson’s stream, I found the road opposite the barns flooded,—like a river flowing across the road. It was far too deep for me to wade through, be- sides, the current was so strong that I should have been tripped had I ventured it. I had to walk some dis- tance on the stone wall and over a heavy plank, which some one during a previous deluge had placed here for a high-water footbridge in an emergency. A walk up the hill, and I turned off the road, enter- ing a path through the cow-pastures, to see the heaps of hail under the pines along Thompson’s Brook, which was a beautiful, roaring and seething torrent now, as it plunged and leaped down through its rocky flume to the valley below. As I came out on the highway again, at the bend in the road near Ball Farm, I heard the familiar voice of some one who had been sent in search of me. I was warmed with enthusiasm and interest in the storm’s ravages, and thoroughly enjoying my walk. However, I- was grateful for a ride home. Passing by School Fourteen, we saw the prudent teacher scanning the sky before she ventured forth. We noticed many broken panes of glass in the schoolhouse windows, while dozens were shattered in the houses along the way. I had hoped to revisit the colony of the Showy Moc- casin- Flowers which I had found in Cranberry Swamp, north of the pond on June 14th: But Merwin’s mother told me that without doubt they had been gathered on Saturday afternoon, June roth, by three students 76 Bog-Trotting for Orchids from Williams College; she had seen two of them come around the hill by’the pond about five o’clock on that day, bearing a new bushel-basket filled with these gorgeous orchids, while the third soon followed laden with more than he could easily carry far in his arms. ‘They followed the cool mountain road over the Domelet to Williamstown, a road over which the yeo- men from northern Berkshire were led to battle at Bennington, on the 16th of August, 1777. The road is seldom traversed now, and at best is rough and rocky. It leads directly from Bennington southward to North Adams, under the mountains, and indirectly to Boston. Had the storm come on Saturday, instead of Mon- day, very few blossoms of these orchids would have decorated the church chancel on Baccalaureate Sunday for Williams’ Commencement exercises. The fact that these students come to the Pownal bogs for these orchids assured me of the scarcity and rarity of the species in Williamstown, although they may be found sparingly in the swamps of The Forks along Broad Brook, just over the Vermont State Line in Pownal. This stream rises on the east side of the Majestic Dome, and flows down to the Hoosac by way of White Oaks, and thus enters Williamstown, where it soon joins the river. The orchids in The Forks are quickly plundered, long before June 2oth, by ignorant tourists or students afield botanizing, who either do not realize or do not care that plucking all these rare blossoms will in time bring about their total extinction. Hail-Storms at Etchowog ray Orchids may in many instances produce seeds in abundance, but why they do not reproduce more seed- lings is a problem not easily solved nor remedied. Darwin once estimated that a single spike of the English Orchis (Orvchis masculata) produced over 186,000 seeds, and that at this rate its grandchildren would soon carpet the earth; while Muller says also that his brother estimated 1,750,000 seeds in a single capsule of another species of the family (M/axidllaria). We must remember that the species of Ovchidacea are not as a rule self-fertilized, as are the more abundant and common flowers and weeds, which often cover acres of swampy land and fields of waste land. Our native orchids are wholly dependent upon insects for fertilization and cross-fertilization; yet, for some cause or other, comparatively few of the ripened and fertile seeds germinate and reproduce new seedlings. Our Moccasin-Flowers do not appear to multiply in many swamps, while species of Orchis and Habenaria are never abundant in this region. For years now, I have noticed large groups of the Showy Lady’s Slippers growing in Rattlesnake Swamp near Lloyd Spring, and I can find little increase in the number of plants, or the size of the old snarl of roots. In fact, they seem to be diminishing in numbers. There is an old colony in this region that has stood for about seventy-five years, much the same in size, on the authority of the old inhabitants of this neighbor- hood. It stands to-day among the shrub-like willows and swamp maples, at the feet of little scrub pines and 78 Bog-Trotting for Orchids dwarf double spruces, hidden from the sight of travel- lers in the path by a prostrate tree trunk and decaying primeval pine stump. I observed this colony years ago, and this season it appeared the same to me, occupying a space about two feet square. I counted forty-two full-grown flowers, many stems bearing two blossoms. This indeed was one of the most charming sights, suggesting the luxuriance of the humid climate of the tropics. It was even more enchanting than the colony of Pink Moccasin-Flowers,—that famous group of two hundred buds which the children in District Fourteen secured ahead of me, since this group of flowers were massed more closely together. I wished a sight of the Pink Moccasin-Flowers at their best. I left these, too, undisturbed save by the little moths and mosquitoes and honeybees, which came to drink the nectar within the pearly pink and white cups. Notwithstanding the recent hailstorms, which had split many cups and spilt the dew, the flowers were developing plump, hard seed-capsules. Thousands of fertile seeds must fall and fly about from this colony; and yet the aged snarl of roots remains the same. A unique row of seedlings of this species (Cypripe- dium reging) too young to blossom, and reminding one of a row of barn-swallows, not yet sufficiently matured to fly, grew along a moss-covered pine log, near the parent colony of plants. Digging down, I found the old log about twelve inches below the surface. It was sound at the heart, bare of its outer bark, and had be- come so imbedded in the water-soaked peat as to be OTA S UBIpUy J} jo ugend) au L S-,S, Ape] PeTBlad-9}14 M 20 fi IMOT YT -UISB AMOYUS oq Hail-Storms at Etchowog 79 absolutely preserved. The stump from which this tree had fallen was worn and crumbled away to the very earth, and capped with moss. It will require years for this log to settle into the peat deeply enough to allow these seedling orchids to ply and mass their roots in generous soft soil. Unless their roots deeply penetrate rich soil, the plants become pale in color and dwarfed, like the plants growing in loose sphagnum. I missed some old colonies; these were of a new gen- eration, and if they are not starved out, will blossom here in a row another year. Another cluster of plants growing near by produces the deepest magenta blossoms that I ever beheld, and only in this one group have I seen this particular hue. A deep rose-purple extends over almost the whole labellum, and from a distance I thought I had discov- ered the long-sought Purple-Fringed Orchis,—such a flame of color rose before me. It almost seemed a variety of the true Cypripedium regine. This swamp produced just one hundred blossoms this season. Of this number I gathered about twenty- five among the scattered plants, leaving the older groups to ripen their seeds, if possible. I found the first fully unfolded Showy Lady’s Slip- pers of the season, on June 8th, in the Swamp of Ora- cles in District Fourteen; while those of Rattlesnake Swamp unfolded fully this season on June 2oth, and faded about July 1st, the season being shortened by the heavy hailstorms. I have noticed that orchids growing in open, sunny 80 Bog-Trotting for Orchids swamps are stocky and short-scaped, bearing highly colored blossoms; while in shaded, muddy glooms the plants are rank and tender, with pale flowers, which do not last nearly so long as those which grow in the sunlight. The deeply colored specimens mentioned above grew wholly in the sunshine, and beside a fresh flowing stream. I have transplanted all the New England species of Cypripedium, but only two of them took kindly to the garden for a succession of seasons. The small yellow species, Cypripedium parviflorum, seems easily natu- ralized in our damp woodland corners of the garden. The large yellow species, Cypripedium hirsutum, closely allied with the small yellow species, is easily managed in the same colony. The Ram’s-Head (Cj- pripedium arietinum) is more choice in its home, being rarely seen incultivation. It is not very plentiful even in its native haunts. I have sent plants of the Showy Lady’s Slipper and the Large Yellow Lady’s Slipper found on Mount CEta, to New Bedford, Massachusetts, to Herkimer, New York, and to New Haven, Connecticut. In every in- stance they have become happy in their new surround- ings, thriving and blooming through several seasons. The Small Yellow Cypripedium in New Haven has flourished and bloomed for ten seasons. The seed- capsules of these orchids, however, have never matured fertile seeds in this garden; and the pods wither up and do not develop as in the forest bogs, for want of the proper insects to fertilize them. It would be well ~~ a ee 145 ae Hail-Storms at Etchowog SI to secure pollen from sister species of this plant in the Swamp of Oracles, and insure fertilization and cross- fertilization of this tame garden plant. We might look for possible hybrids, since this species is well broken away, by ten years of cultivation, from its primeval condition. The Showy Lady’s Slipper does not take so naturally to the garden, and in many instances does not live so long in captivity as would be expected. It will, how- ever, produce seedlings readily, if care is taken to pro- tect the surrounding soil in winter, where the seed is sown. An interesting experiment, with artificial agencies producing fertile seed of this species, is related by F. F. Le Moyne of Chicago. He sowed the seed thus obtained artificially for two successive seasons, and secured seedlings from each sowing. He also believes that “‘this plant could be multiplied very rapidly from seed thus fertilized,’’ in garden culture.’ This year, I sent the rare Ram’s-Head to the New Haven Garden, with hopes of its blossoming next May. This Cypripedium is the rarest orchid in North America. The Pink Moccasin-Flower (Cypripedium acaule) is the most common species of the genus in New Eng- land, and on the continent of North America, north of Mexico, with the exception of the two Yellow Cy- pripediums, which claim a broader range from east to west. The Pink Cypripedium proves the most : a F. Le Moyne, Garden and Forest, 3: 1890. 82 Bog-Trotting for Orchids stubborn and difficult in cultivation. It may be potted during the winter, but seldom, if ever, blooms more than a single season. While many of our native orchids have a certain amount of adaptiveness to environment, they never will be found to choose absolutely dry soil, such as the rocky sheep pastures in which the common pennyroyal thrives. A sheltered, damp corner is safest for the exiled plant, where the sunshine searches long to brighten its petals. One cold day in early March, I secured a frozen sod containing the roots of the Showy Lady’s Slipper, and made an artificial bog in the bay-window, where I watched it thaw out. The flowers burst forth about a month earlier than when in the swainps. But although they were fully in the warm rays of the May sun, the blossoms were pale and delicate. The same cluster of plants sent forth deep rose-tinged blossoms the next season, in the damp corner of my garden, where I planted them. They became strong, healthy plants, flowering several seasons on the regular date for Pow- nal, June 20th. It is therefore evident that dates for blossoming differ more according to the exposure of the haunt than to the variations of seasons. But in the Swamp of Oracles I know where I can find this Showy Queen of the Indian Moccasins as early as June 8th, and I know of other haunts where it is not unfurled until the 15th and 2oth of the month. Vil Sweet Pogonias and Limodorums Come bring me wild pinks from the valleys, Ablaze with the fire o’ the sun— No poor little pitiful lilies That speak of a life that is done! ALICE Cary, Be Still. N June 26th we drove over to Thompson’s Trout Pond. We took the old flat-bottomed boat, and with one slab board for a paddle, steered slowly over the whole surface of the lake,—a beautiful, clear little mountain mirror, with good-sized fish swimming about. I searched along the shores for the long-desired Purple-Fringed Orchises, but still without success. Fleur-de-lis grew abundantly about the lake; and in the little dents and bays among the sedges and cat-tails, I found the Yellow Spatter- Dock or Cow-Lily (Vymphea), so named in the time of Christ by the ancient herbalist, Dioscorides, who first gave it the Greek name Alephara, and later, in Latin, Nymphea lutea and Nenuphar citrinum. It was known in England in 1500 as Yellow Nenuphar or, Water Lily. The swamp birds are tame and saucy here. Pad- dling our boat into the reedy shores among the alder bushes, where they were nesting, they seemed to take 83 84 Bog-Trotting for Orchids no alarm at our approach, but stood their ground pour- ing forth beautiful liquid notes. In one place near the centre of the lake, we crossed an expanse of deep water where long rootlets of the Water Persicaria (Polygonum amphibium) supported glossy carmine, lance - like leaves, which swayed gracefully on the surface of the swelling waves as we approached. These strange deep-water weeds send forth rich crimson or pinkish flowers a little later, seeming fairly to stain the lake. I had never seen this species before growing in such depths of water. It is a species of the Buckwheat Family, and a near cousin of the barnyard smart-weed and the knot-grass or door-weed. The generic name, Polygonum, comes from the Greek, meaning ‘* many knees.’”’ It is so called on account of the swollen joints of some of the species of this family. The leaves of the Water Persicaria are brilliant crimson on the lower surface, and with age and exposure the up- per surface turns deep Indian-red. These plants were rooted at least fifteen feet below the water’s surface in the mud. They may be found, too, along the shallow shores of Pownal Pond. They also grow in ponds and lakes far northward to Quebec and Alaska, and as far south as New Jersey and Ken- tucky, and westward to California. They thrive at an altitude of two thousand feet, in the lakes of the Adi- rondacks, blooming there, asa rule, in July and Au- gust. ‘Thoreau observed this species in the lakes of the Maine woods, during his journey in 1853. On the 30th of June I ventured forth to Etchowog, Pogonias and Limodorums = 85 in search of Pogonias and Limodorums, although the season was almost too far advanced for prime speci- mens. I had heard the day before that some blossoms of these plants had been gathered in the Westville Swamps, near New Haven, Connecticut. I thus felt encouraged to search once more for these beautiful orchids. With luncheon and vasculum, and Major following me, I journeyed over the meadows and hills of Mount Cita to the north slope of the Domelet, where I crossed the country road. Finally I de- scended into a deep basin under the Dome, which rises east of the Domelet. Northward nestled the neat white and red farm buildings near Thompson’s Pond, and far beyond them all I saw the blue, blue hills of Bennington County. Everywhere I searched for the Fringed Orchis, which had so far eluded me in these swamps. ‘The meadow seemed interminable as I circled around to the east of the pond. Bearing to the northward, I noticed nothing new except the ravages of the recent hailstorm. It had cut down flowers and corn-fields alike. The very hills were washed down from the mountain sides; great gutters and still flowing streams were eroding the corn-fields, scattering the sandy soil broadcast over the once green meadows. Even the edges of the grasses were brown and sear, and the Timothy-heads of the Cat’s-tail Grass were stripped prematurely of their seed. I followed Thompson’s Brook, leading northerly from the pond, in through several willow and alder swamps. 86 Bog-Trotting for Orchids Then, instead of following down the rocky channel to Ball Brook Forks, I struck out directly at the head of the Meyers Road, over the fields, north from the maple- sugar house, and landed on the high hills south of the great meadows of Etchowog. Sleeping at my feet lay those sphagnous bogs which had already yielded me so many rare flowers, and so much pleasure. North- ward stretched out a vast sweep of hills and valleys, reaching nearly the whole length of Bennington County. To the right towered the massive abutments of the Dome, and to the left rose the isolated form of Mount Anthony,—these two mountains framing, as it were, the gap northward, through whose wide vista I could define the dim blue heights of Mount Equinox, at Manchester. Nearer, I could trace fertile vales and sloping hillsides, dotted here and there with wood- lands, scattered trees and farm buildings. Standing still nearer in the shadow of Mount An- thony was Bennington Hill, with the Battle Monu- ment clearly outlined even at this distance, some ten miles away. In the nearer landscape were discernible the serpentine windings of Ball Brook, with its long chain of tamarack and balsam-fir swamps, spreading out here and there toward Bennington,—where, I dare say, are many rich and undiscovered colonies of Lady’s Slippers. Nearer yet, the knob-like glacial hills around Pow- nal Pond shield the Cranberry Swamp to the north, and the open Bogs of Etchowog east of the pond. Nestling among the trees by the mill, I picked out the ‘aonad ST SUIDJUNOUL IY} [JP 4920 ,, *Q0UBISIP IY} UI JJ9T IY} OF SIOMO} JUDTUINUOYL 9[}}e_G UOJSUTUUE oy J ‘JUOWIIA *BLAD JUNO, wos; ‘AJUNOD UoO}ZUIUUAG Jo suIvJUNO, JTUODvT 9y} BuIMOYS “dey uISYyION oY TL rye a y ¥ »* i . : ‘ Me Re 4 we Va ‘i A : , ¥ Age) x i i? ap y : ; ‘ * : aor er « call 12S ‘ { i : a) j ‘ : ‘ - . 4 . ; ; - . a , ‘ . . ) ’ : » 5 = i . — -_ J j i - > - + 4 : ; pe@ : ‘ « ae . i ‘ wv 1s rn yf ee Pye PORi ears ee 1 a : 4 ei *} : - 1 ~ ) % ‘ y “7 ae i. { f 7 s y of Cee Co Be em ae, i a et ee ee ca M 3 Ay POR Rar a it aie Lay Fated = , rs ; ; ~ coal j * u ws 5 2, +, Py: ‘ \ a a Pogonias and Limodorums 87 roof of the mill-house where little Merwin lives. But the shadows of hill and mountain were growing longer in the valley as the sun sank toward the west, and it behooved me to waste no more time dreaming on the hilltop. So I slowly descended to the valley, groping my way between bushy young pines, passing a herd of gentle, meek-faced Jersey cows feeding on the hill- side. I found many cow-paths running around the bog, and was led out into the swamp at a point nearly opposite the little white schoolhouse of Barber District, Number Thirteen. I did not find the place rose-purple with the little orchids, as it should have been, but I did find a few dozen plants of Grass-Pinks (Limodorum tuberosum), and six or eight delicate rose-pink blossoms of Snake- Mouth (fogonia ophioglossoides). I gathered a few flowers of each, grateful that any remained to assure me that they were not quite extinct here, and I ob- served how very careful one must bein plucking the flowers not to pull the little roots and bulbs out of the moss at the same time. All my plants grew east of the stream that runs through the centre of the swamp. When I tried to cross this creek, I found it so broad and deep and muddy that I could not get anywhere near it. Wan- dering toward the road skirting the bog, I came toa rude board bridge over the stream, indicating a path formerly leading through the swamp to Barber’s Mill. Some high-water tide had twisted and turned the plank about so that only by catching and clinging to small 88 Bog-Trotting for Orchids bushes and saplings on the other bank could I succeed in crossing. I found no Pogonias and Limodorums on the west side of the stream, and it was just here that I had once found the meadow one wave of rose-purple. Reaching the mill, I hastened around the bend in the road. A little to the south of Arethusa’s Spring, and scarcely five feet to the left of the path, under some willows, I saw a dark, insignificant looking pool. Stooping down and touching the surface, I found it icy cold. This pool, Merwin’s mother tells me, has always been here, and at no time in her memory has she heard of any one being successful in measuring its depth, although it has been probed with very long sounding-poles. ‘These have been dropped fifty feet or more. Frequently she has left a long pole standing in the pool, only to find upon returning later that it had disappeared in the depths below, proving great suc- tion. Such holes and springs are characteristic of the swamps of Ktchowog, where the original lake bed was located over a century ago, before the water of Ball Brook was turned in its course through the present pond west of the mill. This ‘‘ dead hole’’ should be fenced in and marked ‘“‘ dangerous,’’ since it might so easily be stepped into by one unacquainted with its character. I followed the familiar and loved path out to the sphagnous meadows east of Kimball’s barns. Taking a straight line southward up the hill, back of an or- chard, along the border of a field of Indian corn, [ came again to Thompson’s Brook, on its way to join aoe P Na a * fee lig.” a 49Va te CheLe ¢ The Rose Pogonia. (Pogontc ophtioglossoides.) A delicate little orchid, found as comrade with the Grass Pink, and frequently with Arethusa, in wild sphagnous meadews. Pogonias and Limodorums = 89 Ball Brook, near the Kimball barns below. It is one of the stoniest channels, narrow and deeply worn, with here and there graceful clinging ferns slightly caught to the banks, and often completely hiding the huge boulders and ledges. Pines and hemlocks are the principal trees along this stream. ‘The twisted and uncovered reddish roots of the hemlocks seemed to have split the black shelving slate rocks asunder with their growth. I threaded my way as near the brook as possible, often finding it necessary to wade in the stream until I reached the bend in the road near Meyers’s sugar-kitchen among the maples. Here, turning to my right, I followed the shaded road leading past the schoolhouse in District Fourteen, and home- ward to Mount Cita. My orchids were pretty well withered on reaching home, and not in good condition for studying. These delicate species of Pogonia and Limodorum are easily wilted, losing their beauty and elasticity soon after be- ing severed from their roots. These two species, Ad- der’s-Mouth Pogonia and Limodorum tuberosum, are almost invariably found together,— comrades of differ- ent genera that travel far and wide in company throughout their continental ranges. The Adder’s-Mouth Pogonia has been formerly con- fused with our native species of Avethusa bulbosa, and for some time was known as Adder’s-Tongue Are- thusa. Thomas Wentworth Higginson writes: ‘‘ On peat-meadows the Adder’s-Tongue Arethusa (now called Pogonia) flowers profusely, with a faint, delicious ere) Bog-Trotting for Orchids perfume,— and its more elegant cousin, the Calopogon, (now called Lizmodorum) by its side.’’ ’ Yet Thoreau had a different impression of the rose- pink Pogonia’s fragrance, and says in his notes in Summer, on June 21, 1852: ‘‘ The adder’s-tongue arethusa smells exactly like a snake. How singular that in Nature, too, beauty and offensiveness should be thus combined!’’? On July 7, 1852, he again men- tions these species of orchids: ‘‘ The very handsome ‘pink-purple’ flowers of the Calopogon pulchellus (now known as Limodorum tuberosum) enrich the grass all around the edge of Hubbard’s blueberry swamp, and are now in their prime. The Avethusa bulbosa, ‘ crys- talline purple,’ Pogonia ophioglossoides, snake-mouthed (tongued) arethusa, ‘ pale-purple,’ and the Calopogon pulchellus, grass-pink, ‘ pink-purple,’ make one family in my mind (next to the purple orchis, or with it), be- ing flowers par excellence, all flower, naked flowers, and difficult, at least the Calopogons, to preserve. But they are flowers, excepting the first, at least, without a name. fogonia! Calopogon!! ‘They would blush still deeper if they knew what names man had given them:*”.? The Pogonia seems to bloom slightly in advance of Limodorum, and is a delicate, waxen-pink flower. It raises its single terminal blossom about six inches high amid the tall grasses of the swampy meadow. It 'T, W. Higginson, Zhe Procession of the Flowers, p. 21. * Thoreau, Summer, p. 198. 3 [bid, p. 347. The Thompson Brook, East Pownal, Vermont. ““ They left their home of Summer ease Beneath the lowland’s sheltering trees, To seek, by ways unknown to all, The promtse of the waterjall.’’ WHITTIER. Pogonias and Limodorums _ 9g! is not so beautiful as its comrade species, the Grass- Pink; but to me it is sweetly fragrant, and since it is an orchid, it is precious, although small and somewhat unsightly in its suggestiveness., There are two leaves: one, oblong and sessile, ap- pears in the middle of the stem; and another smaller, bract-like leaf is found at the base of the seed-capsule, bearing the nodding blossom with its alert bearded petals. The roots are little clusters of fibrous threads, loosely attached in the moss-grown mounds of the primeval forest stumps,— which are slowly decaying below the soil in these aged swamps. The Grass-Pink (Limodorum tuberosum) is much more attractive, with its rose and pink-purple blos- soms. ‘The spike, often a foot high, bears from two to fifteen beautiful and slightly fragrant flowers. The origin of the generic name, Lzmodorum, comes from the Greek, meaning ‘‘a meadow gift.’’ ‘These flowers, according to Mr. Coleman, are called Grass-Pinks in Michigan, while Thoreau also called them by the same name in Massachusetts.’ The labellum seems hinged at the insertion, and is bearded with yellow and purple hairs. There is seldom more than one freshly blown blossom on the stalk at a time, and thus the plant remains attractive for some days. Beginning at the lowermost bud, each one takes its turn in unfolding, the spike slowly lengthening while the buds constantly increase in size and color. One interesting peculiarity of this species is that it 1 Thoreau, Summer, p. 347. 92 Bog-Trotting for Orchids remains as Nature originally intended all species of orchids,—with the labellum as the upfer petal, instead of the lower, as seen in all other native species. It will be observed in species of the Orchid Family that a twist of the seed-pod has taken place: if not a com- plete revolution, at least halfa turn. The labellum is, therefore, directed forward on the lower or inferior side, as in the species of Cypripedium, where it appears in the position of a shoe or moccasin, instead of hold- ing itself above like a dome, as originally intended by Nature. Darwin says of this: ‘‘ An enormous amount of extinction must have swept away a multitude of in- termediate forms, and has left this single genus, now widely distributed, as a record of a former and more simple state of the great Orchidean Order.”’ ’ The ovary of the Grass-Pink is straight, and the labellum so hinged that it falls down like an arch above, bearded with delicate hairs. ‘The column bear- ing the anther, containing four soft pollen-masses, curves slightly at the end, producing a hollow wherein lies the pollinia. ‘The stigmatic surface lies still farther toward the centre of the column. An insect sipping nectar from these flowers, safely enters without dis- tributing the adhesive pollinia, since the anthers con- taining the cells are so hinged that not until he turns to leave the heart of the flower does he swing open the lid of the cup containing the powdery gold, which fastens to the velvet of his coat beneath his body. The next flower of this species, therefore, becomes fer- 1 Darwin, Fertilization of Orchids, p. 226. 1895. rae ec % at - «4 The Grass-Pink. (Limodorum tuberosum.) This is a strange, beautiful orchid with a straight seed-pod (ovary). which causes the labellum to remain on the upper side of the inner whorl, instead of the lower side by torsion as in nearly all other orchids. . - 1 . r ° : d 4 7 _ e ’ ' ' . = J EAs ‘ — > > < Me ' 7 r : - r 2 6 > =” al , ¥ ‘ c _— r 7" “- : te © la . >} *>ae - B ‘<< Fa = , , ' i back 7 nae be “