Ships and stowaway seeds—Tidal drift—Sheep, broom, migrating birds—Crows and acorns—Ice—Squirrels—Long flight of birds—Seeds in mud—Martynia and lions—The wanderings of Xanthium—Cocoanut and South Sea Islands—Sedges and floods—Lichens of Arctic and Antarctic—Manna of Bible—The Tumble weeds of America—Catapult and sling fruits—Cow parsnips—Parachutes, shuttlecocks, and kites—Cotton—The use of hairs and wings—Monkey's Dinner-bell—Sheep-killing grasses.

THE ways in which fruits and seeds are scattered abroad over the face of the earth form one of the most fascinating chapters in the story of Plant Life.

There is an infinite number of ingenious contrivances, so many indeed that it is not at all easy to explain them.

However, suppose yourself seated on a grassy cliff near Eastbourne or Brighton.

Looking lazily out over the blue waters, you see Norwegian timber ships and steamers of all kinds, from the little coasting "Puffing Billy" to the huge liner departing for Australia or South Africa.

Plants are probably using every steamer; in the straw of the packing cases, in the cargoes of corn or grain, in the ore, and in the ballast, there are sure to be seeds. Such stowaways are mostly weeds, but of course many valuable garden, farm, orchard, and forest seeds are being intentionally exported. Looking down on the seashore, you will notice the high-water mark, a yellowish brown line of floated rubbish which is quite distinct even at a distance. If you now go down and examine it closely (not a particularly pleasant operation, seeing that so much is in a decomposing condition) you will find many seeds amongst the corks and bits of straw, seaweed, and objectionable, if lively, animalcula, and very likely also pieces of plants, such as willow branches, which might quite easily take root.

On the coast of Norway, and on our own western seaboard, the fruits of a West Indian bean (Entada scandens) are occasionally to be found, and its seeds are probably able to germinate. We know that in long-past geological ages they were floating round the estuary of the Thames, where they occur as fossils. It has been found by experiment that fruits and seeds are not killed although they have floated for a year or more in salt water. Thus ocean currents are utilized to carry fruits and seeds.

But from our comfortable seat on the South Downs, still more can be learnt of wandering seeds. The wind which blows across the downs carries with it hundreds of winged or hairy fruits, all of them exquisitely fashioned as miniature airships, aeroplanes, or other winged contrivances. The wind is an important distributer of seeds.

One of the South Down sheep is trailing behind it a piece of bramble which has caught in its wool; others, which have been grazing on the broken cliff-edge where Agrimony, Forget-me-not, and Burdock are flourishing, are certain to have spiny or sticky fruits entangled in their wool. Animals therefore carry seeds in their wool or fur. If it should happen to be a fine, sunny afternoon, and if there are any plants of Broom near by, it is quite likely that you may, every now and then, hear a faint, sudden crack. This will be the Broom at work scattering its seeds by itself. The little pod, when it dries, contracts in such a way that it splits with a sudden explosive pop, and the seeds are sent flying to a distance of three or four feet. This curious fact was observed in 1546 by the naturalist Boek. The Whin and many other plants act in the same way, for the dry fruit becomes elastic and coils up spirally, flinging away the seed.

But here also, on the southern shore of England, we are at a main station of arrival and departure for migrating birds. A Landrail or other marsh bird might be flushed in France, and might quite easily cross the Channel with French mud sticking to its plumage. In this mud, or in its crop, there may be seeds or fruits which will be left in an English pond. This method is probably a very important one, for these plants growing in duck-haunted places are amongst the most widely distributed of all.

Mr. Reid has a very interesting discussion on this point. The crow or rook could quite well cross the British Channel now. In the days when Britain was covered with ice and snow, the gap between the French and the English shore was only half the present width. There was at that time much flat land with oak forest bordering the French coast.

Mr. Reid shows that it is probable that rooks regularly carry about acorns in the cup, for he found seedling oaks associated with empty acorn husks, stabbed and torn in a peculiar way. "On October 29th of 1895, in the middle of an extensive field, bordered by an oak copse and scattered trees, I saw a flock of rooks feeding and passing singly backwards and forwards to the oaks. On driving the birds away, and walking to the middle of the field I found hundreds of empty acorn husks and a number of half-eaten, pecked acorns."[114] So that crows may have brought the acorns that colonized Britain with oak forest in the earliest historical period.

Another means of dispersal is not so obvious on the South Downs. In the Arctic region a glacier breaks away at its tongue into icebergs, which float off and are stranded somewhere perhaps hundreds of miles distant. Upon these icebergs are stones and soil and plants which may be carried to a great distance from their original place. In the Glacial period or Great Ice Age, ice may have been an important help in distributing plants, but at present it is difficult to find a good example.

From all this it is clear that in order to carry plants to new countries and new homes, everything that moves on the earth's surface can be employed. Not only the wind, but ocean currents, river waters, icebergs, and floating ice are used. Migrating birds, mammals, and especially the most restless and unsettled animal of all, viz. man, are at work consciously and deliberately, or unconsciously and accidentally, carrying the seeds to form new forest, grasslands, or harvests in other countries.

The subject is in truth so vast that it is difficult to select the most interesting and important cases.

The way in which squirrels, rats, voles, and lemmings devour nuts and the like often leads to the distribution of the fruit. A squirrel may, like a human being, forget where its store was buried, or be driven from the place. Then some of those forgotten nuts will grow into trees.

Birds are known to travel enormous distances. It is said that one little Arctic bird travels from Heligoland to Morocco in a single flight. It would not, at first sight, seem likely that seeds and fruits could be carried by birds; yet Darwin saw that this might possibly be the case. The mud and slime in which so many birds find the small insects which they require is full of seeds. An Austrian botanist, Kerner von Marilaun, examined the mud scraped from the beaks, feathers, and legs of a number of wading and marsh-birds. He found in it the seeds of no less than thirty-one different water and marsh plants (Grasses, Sedges, Toad-rush, etc.). This showed, as is very often the case, that Darwin was the first to discover a very important point. It is also interesting to find that these ugly little freshwater mud and marsh plants are at home almost everywhere, from the Arctic circle to Tierra del Fuego and from Peru to Japan.

The most extraordinary cases known of sticking fruits and spines are the Martynias and Harpagophytons of South Africa. The fruit is covered by hooked claws, and becomes a regular pest wherever it occurs. Deer, antelopes, and other animals get their hoofs entangled in the fruit, and the wretched creatures have to limp about until the hard thorny fruit is trodden to pieces. Dr. Livingstone says that the fruit gets into the nostrils of grazing animals which cannot possibly remove it themselves, and so have to wait patiently till the herdsman comes to take it out. According to Lord Avebury, lions may sometimes be destroyed by these horrible fruits. When a lion is rolling on the sand, the claws (an inch long) stick in his skin, and when the lion tries to tear it away with his teeth his mouth gets full of the fruits and he cannot eat, and perishes miserably of starvation.[115]

Some of our common British fruits are most perfectly planned to stick or entangle themselves in the wool of sheep or in people's clothes. These, such as the Goosegrass (Robin-run-the-Hedge), Burdock, Forget-me-not, Sanicle, Avens, etc., have very often been described. It is only necessary to examine one's clothes after a walk through rough, broken ground to discover some of them, and the ingenuity and neatness of their tiny hooks, harpoons, or prongs can then be realized. We shall give one or two instances of some other spiny plants. There is, for instance, Xanthium, which is one of the Daisy flowers or Composites. Unlike most of this order, its little fruits possess no wind-hairs. The outside of the head of flowers is covered by strong curved little crooks. These get so entangled in wool or hair that they become a perfect pest to wool merchants. In 1814 Xanthium was unknown in the Crimea, but by 1856 it had covered the whole of the peninsula. In 1828 the Russian cavalry horses brought it on their manes and tails into Wallachia, from whence it travelled to Servia. Servian pigs carried it into Hungary. In 1830 it was taken in wool to Vienna. By 1871 it had reached Paris and Edinburgh. In 1860 Frauenfeld saw horses in Chile whose manes and tails were so felted together with thousands of these fruits that the animals could scarcely walk. In Australia, where it first appeared in 1850, it has caused a very serious loss to the wool merchants and squatters. The loss has been put at 50 per cent. by some authorities.[116]

We have already alluded to the transference of fruits and seeds by ocean currents. In the Challenger expedition, no less than ninety-seven kinds of marine floating fruits were observed.

Amongst these the most important is the Cocoanut. The nut sold in this country is not the whole fruit, but only the inside shell. In the natural state this is enclosed in a dense mass of fibres, which form the valuable "coir" used for brushmaking and a variety of purposes.

The entire outside of the fruit is covered by a smooth white skin. The whole fruit is about the size of a man's head, and is so light that it floats easily in the water. It has in fact been carried by the waves to uninhabited islands all over the South Seas. It is a very great blessing to Polynesia, for a tree yields thirty to fifty nuts, and four of these nuts will furnish enough food for one day. Coprah and the oil extracted by boiling the inside are also valuable. Spirit or toddy can be made from the young buds. The leaves are used for thatching and the trunk for timber.

There are other very curious palm fruits which are also carried by water. Sir Joseph Hooker mentions the large, round fruits of Nipa, as big as a cannon-ball, turned over by the paddles of the steamer in the muddy waters at the Ganges mouth (Himalayan Journal).

In this country a search in the rubbish left by a spate or freshet along a riverside is sure to furnish many floating fruits or seeds. Most of these are small and rather difficult to see. Perhaps the most interesting are those of the Sedges. The real fruit is only about one-sixteenth of an inch in size, but it is enclosed in a little sack or bag a quarter of an inch long and with a narrow opening, so that it floats quite easily. Many willow branches, pondweeds, hornweeds, and the like, are also found in the rubbish left by floods, and these can often take root.

It is, however, in the exquisite modifications of those fruits which are blown by the wind that we find the most beautiful contrivances of all. They are effective also. Seeds are often so small as to be like dust particles, and such may be carried in the air to almost incredible distances. That of Goodyera repens weighs only 1/200,000,000 of a pound, that of Monotropa, ·000,000,006 lb. It is no doubt by the wind that the spores of lichens are carried from one mountain to another. On a map of the world the distance from the Arctic to the Antarctic, between the North and South Poles, seems enormous. Moreover, the amount of water, desert, tropical forest, and cultivated land in this extent of country is very great. There are but few rocks on which lichens could manage to grow. And yet of the Antarctic Lichens in the South Polar regions, and which are also European species, more than 73 per cent. are found in the Arctic or North Polar regions.[117]

An Arctic lichen spore probably travelled from Scandinavia to the German and Swiss Alps, another journey took it to the Atlas Mountains, thence to Abyssinia, again to Mount Kenia, and from there, somehow, it wandered to the South Orkneys or King Edward VII Land.

While talking of lichens, one must not forget the Manna of the Bible (Lecanora esculenta) and two other species, which form warted, wrinkled masses on rocks. It breaks off and may be carried away by the wind, or in heavy rain it may be washed into depressions of the soil, where a man can pick up 8 to 12 lb. in a day.

It "is used as a substitute for corn in years of famine—being ground in the same way and baked into bread.... It is also remarkable that all the great so-called rains of manna, of which news has come from the East to Europe, especially those of the years 1824, 1828, 1841, 1846, 1863, and 1864, occurred at the beginning of the year, between January and March, i.e. at the time of the heaviest rains.... The inhabitants of the district actually thought that the manna had fallen from heaven, and quite overlooked the fact that this vegetable structure grew and developed (although only in isolated patches and principally as crusts on stones) in the immediate neighbourhood of the spots where they collected it."[118]

Amongst the wind-blown fruits and seeds there are cases in which entire plants are dragged out of the soil and hurried away by the wind, which rolls them over and over. They may be blown along for days together. The seeds drop out by the way. In this country one rarely sees anything of the sort, but in the Prairies of North America, when under cultivation, these tumble-weeds are a serious and expensive pest. Sometimes the farmers dig trenches to catch them, or they may put up fences against which the tumble-weeds become piled or heaped up until they blow over the top.

It is not very much use to give the names of these weeds, for they are mostly rare or not British species. Such tumble-weeds are generally nearly spherical in general form and have a short, rather weak, root which is easily torn out of the ground. In some grasses, such as "Old Witch," a well-known pest of the United States, the grass-stalk, with many flowers on it, is pulled out of its sheath and blown away.

But it is more usual for the fruits or seeds themselves to break off the parent plant, and to be carried away by the wind. To this end we find the most extraordinary changes. Although the flower may droop from its stalk, the latter becomes upright and grows quite a considerable length when the seed or fruit is dispatched on its wanderings. This will raise the fruit or seed as high as possible above the surrounding grasses.

Then in some cases the fruit opens to allow the seed to escape. Small holes appear in it, or the fruit splits. As the dry, elastic, withered stalk swings to and fro in the wind, the seeds are swung out of these openings, and starting with a certain momentum the wind will carry them often to a surprising distance from their parents. In wet or rainy weather these holes or slits generally close together, and no seeds are sent forth on their travels. The little holes in the top of a poppy-head by which the seeds are swung out have little flaps, which close over and shut them up in wet weather.

Some plants make a sort of catapult to sling or hurl their fruits. Kerner von Marilaun was the first to describe some of these curious arrangements. He had brought home some fruits of Dorycnium herbaceum and laid them on his writing-table. "Next day as I sat reading near the table, one of the seeds of the Dorycnium was suddenly jerked with great violence into my face." Some of the neatest catapult fruits are those of Teucrium flavum. (There is a British species, the Woodsage, but it has not got the same arrangement.) When the petals have fallen off, the four small fruits are left inside the cup-like sepals; the flower-stalk when dry is very elastic, and if an animal touches the sepals it swings violently and shoots out one of the fruits. But that is by no means the whole of the process: there are hairs arranged spirally in the throat of the sepals, and these give a spin or twirling motion like that of a rifle-bullet to the fruit. The fruit also flies out of the sepals in a line of flight which is inclined at an angle of about forty-five degrees to the horizon; at this angle, as is well known, the trajectory or distance travelled will be the greatest possible.

But by far the best way to understand these questions is to try with some common weeds in the country towards the end of summer or beginning of autumn. If either the Cow Parsnip or wild Angelica, or Myrrhis, be gathered and kept till it is quite dry, then if you take it by the stalk and swing it to the full extent of the arms the fruits fly off to fifteen (or more) feet away. Every part is elastic—not only the main stalk, but the thin separate stalks of the flowers and also the delicate piece by which each half-fruit is attached. The half-fruits themselves are also so made that they are of exactly the right shape to take a long flight.

Ever since the days of Icarus, one of the unsatisfied ambitions of mankind has been to fly like a bird, to "soar into the empyrean," and to be no longer chained to the earth's surface.

It is a very curious study, that of the many and diverse inventions, almost always useless and very often fatal, by which men have endeavoured to solve this problem. Every one of these can be paralleled amongst the many neat contrivances of wind-borne fruits and seeds. The principle of the "parachute," which is more or less like an umbrella, is found in both fruits and seeds. One of the most beautiful is the Dandelion fruit, where a series of the most exquisite branched hairs springs from the top of the slender shaft which carries the little hard fruit. Most of the Composite or Dandelion order have, however, more of the "shuttlecock" idea. There is a row or crown of stiff and spreading or feathery hairs.

The classical person above alluded to seems to have copied the bird's wing, sticking on feathers with wax, which of course melted in the sun with the usual result to the inventor of flying machines. Many seeds have regular wings which act like those of the bat or flying squirrel. One of the most exquisite of all is the seed of Bignonia. The Dahlia fruit has also a flying wing, and a great many others might be mentioned. Major Baden-Powell experimented with kites, which were supposed to raise a man high enough in the air to take observations of the enemy's movements. But a most exquisite "kite" is that of the Lime tree. The little fruit is hung from a broad, flying bract, and as it very slowly sinks to the ground it solemnly turns round and round. That is because the pressure of the air acts on the flat bract just as it does on an aeroplane, and forces it to revolve. So the fruit remains a long time in the air, and may be carried to nearly a hundred yards away from its parent tree.

The Traveller's Joy (Clematis) and the Cotton have their seeds covered all over by many entangled hairs, which act like a piece of fluff, so that the wind blows the seed away.

No one has discovered the original wild Cotton plant. The robes of the priests in Egyptian temples were made of it. It was introduced into Spain by the Arabs when they invaded that country. When the Spaniards attacked the half-civilized Indian people of Central and South America, they found cotton was regularly cultivated there. Its history in England is rather interesting. In the days of Queen Elizabeth the great English industry was the production of woollen cloth from Yorkshire sheep. A penalty of £20 was imposed, even as late as 1720, on any person who imported or even wore cotton cloths. Yet this was unable to stop the growth of the trade which, thanks to the Flemings and Huguenots who took refuge from religious persecution in this country, eventually became our gigantic textile industry employing millions of factory hands. The advantage of these wings and hairs is at once seen if one compares the time that a fruit or seed takes to fall through a given height, first with its wings or hairs, and then after they have been cut off.

An Artichoke fruit, for instance, will take nearly eight seconds to reach the ground from a height of a few feet. But if you cut away its hairs, it will touch the ground in a little more than one second. A Sycamore fruit of which the wing has been removed falls to the ground in about a quarter of the time that it takes when it has not been injured, so that the wing helps it to fly to four times the distance that it could reach if it had none. The Ash fruit also remains twice as long in the air as it would do if it had no wing; and so on.

We shall finish this chapter by describing two very extraordinary cases.

The Sandbox tree is a native of tropical America. The fruit, as large as an orange, consists of a number of rounded pieces, each with a single seed inside. When ripe each piece splits off, making a noise like the report of a pistol. The plant is sometimes called the Monkey's Dinner Bell. These pieces may be thrown to a distance of fifty-seven feet from the parent plant.

Even more remarkable are the hygroscopic grasses. There are four of them, which are widely separated as regards distribution, for one (Stipa capillata) lives in Russia, another (Stipa spartea) in North America, a third (Aristida hygrometrica) is found in Queensland (Australia), and the fourth (Heteropogon contortus) belongs to New Caledonia.

Yet all these four grasses are said to kill sheep, and do so in a manner that is almost identical. The mechanism is as follows. The fruit is like that of most grasses, enclosed in a folded leaf, the bract (or glume), which in these particular cases is produced into a very long fine tapering hair or awn. This awn is sensitive to changes in the moisture of the air. It is strongly hygrometric: in wet weather it straightens itself, and it coils into corkscrew spirals in dry weather. The widened part of the base, which contains the grain, tapers into a sharp, very hard point; upon this there are, on the outside, many stiff hairs, which point backwards away from the sharp tip.

Now, suppose this fruit to fall on the ground, the awn or tail is sure to be entangled in neighbouring grasses or herbs, but the hard point will rest upon the ground. Every coil and twist made by the entangled awn or tail will push the point a little deeper into the earth, and the backward-pointing stiff hairs will prevent its being pulled out of the soil.

Therefore all these modified contrivances ensure that the seed will bury itself.

But supposing that one of these fruits falls upon a sheep's back. Then an exactly similar process will go on. The seed will be forced through the skin into the body of the sheep. In fact, if it should fall above any soft or vulnerable part of the animal, the sheep will very likely be killed.

As a matter of fact, sheep are said to be killed by these grasses in all those four countries, distant though they are from one another.

We have endeavoured in this chapter to give some faint notion of the hundreds and thousands of ingenious contrivances utilized by plants in order to ensure the dispersal and future prosperity of their children. Every species is always trying to colonize new ground, to seek fresh fields and new pastures. Plants are not content to keep to the old habitats, but every species tries to scatter its pioneers over all the neighbouring country, so that, as often happens, if it is exterminated or suppressed in one locality, new generations luxuriate elsewhere.