Few forest trails are better than on the Superior Hiking Trail in the autumn if you want to have a rotting good time. As I walked the trails this year, I - now in my seventh decade - couldn't help thinking of the phrase "there are more days behind me than in front of me." The forest too has very few days of non-dormant life remaining in the year 2024. Much of the trail was obscured by the fallen leaves of various textures, yellowed and soft, or desiccated and brown. The birch trees stand as silent and bare witnesses to the passing of the summer. But along the path, there is beauty too, in the soft carpet of dead leaves, and the rotting logs extravagantly decorated with moss and mushrooms. Adding much more significance to the mere visual beauty of fallen logs is their ecological contribution to the forest long after they've fallen. Hundreds of species inhabit the logs on top, on the inside hollows, underneath, and along the sides of the logs. And, the collective biomas
As a layman of botany the idea of carnivorous plants has perplexed me. The capturing and eating of other creatures seems like it ought to be limited to animals, since animals are mobile and plants are not. Almost all plants survive and thrive in the world through photosynthesis. They do not need to feed on animals to survive. But, what about the group of plants that are carnivorous? As stationary plants, why and how do they eat critters? This topic was stimulated by my assignment today at the Conservatory Greenhouse of the University of Minnesota. My task was to clean several large tanks of water filled with aquatic plants. While cleaning the tanks I realized many of the plants were classified as carnivorous . What is it about the aquatic environment that causes plants to eat - in effect - other creatures? The short answer is carnivorous plants evolved in nutrient-poor settings such as pond water which is naturally low in the amount of nitrogen needed to synthesize proteins. To compens