ORCHIDS OF THE SKY ISLANDS

In a lush alpine meadow high in the Pinaleno Mountains, I almost miss my first native Arizona orchid. Hooded lady's tresses, says the field guide. Spiranthes romanzoffiana. Can this inconspicuous little stalk really belong to the most flamboyant of flower families?

Crouching nose to petal to examine the modest plant through a hand magnifier, however, I am impressed to find that its credentials are impeccable. On the slender stem, exquisite white flowers, the petals hooded and lipped, spiral upward and around like a luxuriant braid of hair. How apt its name after all. How definitively an orchid.

For me, that auspicious moment heralds the start of a summer's day filled with surprises. Invited here by the Tucson chapter of the Arizona Native Plant Society, I have joined members for their annual August trip to the mountain meadows and woods of Mount Graham. Through Meg Quinn, a horticulturist at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum, I receive an expert introduction to an uncommon orchid world. Thanks to retired geologist Horace Miller and his obligingly shared magnifying lens, I am initiated into the subtle intricacies of orchid structure and form.

Indeed, without this dedicated group of plant lovers, I doubt that I would ever have spotted an orchid at all. Compared with their spectacular tropical cousins, Arizona's native orchids come across like humble relations, so self-effacing they're unlikely to be noticed save by the trained eye. Yet, partly because of that, they're especially satisfying to encounter.

Our Mount Graham wildflower walk begins in the early morning at Hospital Flat, elevation 9000 feet. Cool, verdant, and moist with mountain streams, this open expanse provides an ideal habitat not only for orchids but also for high country ferns, grasses, and softly hued gentians.

The broad meadows of Hospital Flat are echoed at Treasure Park, a green stretch of grass punctuated by yellow bursts of wildflowers. Wherever there is surface water, we find more outcrops of the inches-high lady's tresses.

At Shannon Park, we experience a dramatic change in the terrain. As we turn up the Arcadia Trail, we enter a forested walkway, mysteriously woodsy and heady with the scent of spruce, pine, and fir. In sunlight that barely filters through the dense canopy, we recognize several different shade-loving orchids-with decidedly unlovable common names. Spotted coral root (Corallorhiza). Adder's mouth (Malaxis). Rattlesnake plantain (Goodyera). Tiny, mottled, and unprepossessing, each one defies the popular image of an orchid as a resplendent corsage bloom.

Mount Graham in the Pinalenos is by no means Arizona's only wild orchid trove. There are more than twenty known native species, representing ten orchid genera. All are terrestrial, or rooted in soil, and most prefer the cloudier, cooler climes of the state's many mountain ranges, particularly the "sky islands" that rise high above surrounding desert. The mountain ranges provide both a geographical and a biological isolation for a number of plant and animal communities, including the orchid. The high elevations are well suited to native orchid species; most thrive at heights above 6000 feet, and some even at 10,000 feet. Different species bloom at different times, from June through October, in habitats scattered from the Huachuca Mountains in the south to the Kaibab Plateau in the north.

When natural conditions are just right, there can be a wealth of wild orchids to enjoy. In the White Mountains of Apache County grows the orchid known as lady's slipper, or Cypripedium. Usually seen as a single flower on an erect stem, this temperate-zone orchid bears a large yellow lip petal shaped like a slipper. The species also is found as far north as British Columbia and Newfoundland, as well as in Europe.

In the southern reaches of Santa Cruz County, the Canelo Hills Cienega boasts a rare form of lady's tresses. Now under Several of Arizona's wild orchid species thrive in lush environs like this high cienega (LEFT) on Mount Graham in the Pinaleno Mountains of southeastern Arizona.

(BELOW) Hooded lady's tresses (Spiranthes romanzoffiana) is characterized by dense spikes of tiny white flowers. The generic name is derived from spira, a spiral, and anthos, a flower, referring to the distinctive flower arrangement. This spiraling is due to uneven growth of cells that causes the stem to twist.

A Handy Seasonal Guide to Arizona's Orchids

Source: Arizona Flora, by Kearney and Peebles, pages 197-203.

Successful orchid hunting in the Arizona outdoors takes a considerable amount of expertise. We suggest joining a field trip, such as is sponsored by the Arizona Native Plant Society. The Tucson chapter annually treks to such places as Canelo Hills Cienega, the Chiricahua Mountains, and the Pinaleno Mountains, and also sponsors wildflower hikes in the White Mountains. For more information, telephone Meg Quinn at (602) 883-1380 (office) or (602) 624-7331 (home), or Horace Miller at (602) 297-4633. For wildflower hikes and orchid hunts, wear appropriate loose clothing and comfortable walking shoes. Bring along a hat and sunglasses, and don't forget a hand magnifier for a closer look at native orchid beauty. For information about the Orchid Society of Arizona, contact Clarence Lindsten, (602) 937-8745.

(RIGHT) Hidden among the tall grass of marshy Hospital Flat in the Pinalenos, the diminutive inflorescence of hooded lady's tresses is easily overlooked. The bulbs of all North American orchids are said to be edible, but in light of the rarity of many species, orchids should not be used for food except in extreme emergencies.

Text continued from page 23 intensive study by Charles J. Sheviak, curator of botany at the New York State Museum, this cream-tinted flower is believed to be a distinct new orchid species found only in the western United States.

Moist, mossy places in the Chiricahua, Santa Catalina, and Lukachukai mountains are home to the shade-seeking coral root, adder's mouth, and rattlesnake plantain orchids. These mountain ranges can also shelter the bog orchid or "rein orchis" (Habenaria) and the giant helleborine (Epipactis).

Perversely, the showiest of all Arizona wild orchids prefers the most secluded of haunts. Search long enough in the White Mountains, the San Francisco Peaks, or along the Grand Canyon's North Rim and you may be fortunate enough to find our native Calypso, or fairy slipper. Fit indeed for a fairy-tale foot, this delicate plant is distinguished by a lip petal of purple, mottled or striped with darker colors. The flower is named for the beautiful sea nymph Calypso who, according to Greek mythology, detained for seven years a willing Odysseus on his return from Troy.

Described as the most highly evolved flowers in the plant kingdom, orchids make up one of the world's larger families of flowering plants. Today there are thought to be at least 20,000 and perhaps as many as 35,000 orchid species, and more than 700 genera. Curiously, orchids have the smallest seeds of all flowers, a handicap they overcome by producing their seeds in vast quantities.

Orchids

Tenacious, versatile, and surprisingly hardy, orchids persist in every terrain imaginable, from rocks and sand dunes to bogs and swamps. While the majority of species are found in the tropics and sub-tropics, orchids also occur as far north as Iceland. Plants of some species can reach 100 feet in length; the cloud forests of Venezuela shelter an orchid that is smaller than a pin. Other orchids flourish in the Andes and Himalayas; an Australian species spends most of its life underground.

Common to the entire clan is the unusual flower structure. Every orchid has three outer sepals and three inner petals, one of which forms the classic lip, or labellum. And in the orchid, unlike most flowers, the male and female reproductive parts have fused into a single stalk, the column.

In a bid for species survival, orchids go to outrageous extremes, mimicking or luring birds, insects, butterflies, and moths to ensure pollination and fertilization. One Mediterranean orchid, for example, is an uncanny replica of a female wasp, complete with odor. The eager male alights to mate, only to leave again laden with pollen.

Equally ingenious is the lady's slipper. With its distinctive lip providing a convenient landing pad, the orchid attracts insects toward its pouch opening. But so smoothly polished is the edge of this opening that the insect topples down into the shoe. Inside the flower, the insect is appeased by a sumptuous feast of sugars and proteins. Not until it is sated will it seek its way out a daylit back exit. To reach the light-and freedom-the insect must first squeeze through a narrow passageway, where it rubs against the pollen sacs. Again and again this elaborate The Huachuca Mountains (BOTTOM), rising to almost 9500 feet near the Mexican border, provide suitable habitat for some of Arizona's tiny natural wonders.

(FAR LEFT) The inconspicuous bog orchid (Habenaria sparsiflora) likes rich, moist, wooded areas and stream banks.

(LEFT) Rattlesnake plantain (Goodyera oblongifolia) is actually not related to the true plantains, much less to rattlesnakes. The leaves of this orchid were thought to resemble snakeskin and therefore, if chewed, to be effective against snakebite.

(BELOW) Mountain malaxis or adder's mouth (Malaxis soulei) is our largest species of this genus, reaching twenty inches tall.

Whose works: The insect unknowingly becomes a pollen-bearer; the orchid cunningly divests itself of pollen.

Such mechanisms are crucial to the continuation of wild orchid species, which must depend largely on insects for specific pollination. Technical advances in the laboratory, however, have introduced methods of asexual reproduction that allow duplication of even the most prized orchid hybrids. These techniques have made the hobby of orchid growing increasingly affordable.

Historically a pastime of the very wealthy, orchid growing has become a common leisure activity. Not that widespread access has in any way dimmed this astonishing flower's regal appeal. "Any way you look at them, orchids are high class plants," declares Mark Dimmitt, curator of plants at the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum and himself an avid orchid hobbyist.

Describing Arizona's wild orchids as "virtually impossible to grow," Dimmitt is typical of hobbyists throughout the state who shun native species in favor of more fabulous—and more reliable—forms.

Foremost among these hobbyists is Clarence Lindsten, a former Minnesota native of Swedish descent. One of the founding members of the Orchid Society of Arizona and its first president, Lindsten recalls that it was a vision of steaming jungle greenhouses filled with all manner of exotic blooms that originally inspired his orchid interest.

Orchids

His true passion for orchids took root with the Easter blooming of a handsome Cattleya specimen. Captivated by its beauty, Lindsten multiplied that solitary houseplant into more than 2000 plants in two climate-controlled greenhouses.

Today, more than twenty-five years later, his fascination with orchids continues. Now seventy-eight years old, Lindsten has had to close down one of his greenhouses, but still maintains about 1000 plants in the other. For him, this love affair with orchids is easily explained: "Growing orchids is like railroading. Once it gets in the blood, you are hooked for life."

Also bewitched by orchids is Paul Heinz, of Glendale. Not content with the common garden variety of greenhouse, Heinz cultivates his orchids in a thirty-two by sixty-foot extravaganza set six feet underground. To maintain constant humidity and temperature, Heinz has installed a cooling water wall and two outsized fans. A reverse osmosis system filters and treats all greenhouse water. What's more, whenever he and his wife tend the 2000odd plants, Heinz is always careful to tune in an "easy-listening" radio station, "because orchids seem to like it."

First drawn to orchids during a twentyfifth anniversary visit to Hawaii, Heinz credits his hobby with improving his health and giving him extraordinary contentment. "Walking into my greenhouse is like entering a church for me; the sense of peace is so great. Before I started growing orchids, I had a severe blood pressure problem. Today I no longer do."

At the same time, Heinz, like Lindsten, realizes the extent of his passion. "Those of us who grow orchids say it is a hobby. What it really is is a disease."

The beginnings of orchid mania can usually be detected wherever orchid societies gather. The approximately 170 members of the Phoenix chapter of the Orchid Society of Arizona, for example, create a typical mix of novice and oldtime growers, of young and old orchid lovers. The common focus, of course, is orchids and their considerable mystique. Meetings center on buying plants, eradicating pests, judging blooms, learning Latin and Greek nomenclature, discussing successes and failures.

Drawn together by flower madness, society members cajole, assist, outdo, admire, and even envy one another in their orchid obsession. Among their ranks can be the high school enthusiast who nurses a handful of orchids in a rough-hewn frame. Or the retiree who thrills to the sight of orchids growing on her window sill. Or the hydroponic experimenter who responds to the orchid challenge.

Nor does the enthusiasm seem to wane. As Lindsten observes: "Not one person I know has ever willingly given up growing orchids. You may start out with only one plant, but when that beautiful flower appears, a total addiction sets in that will keep you fascinated for the rest of your life."

I feel the potential power of that fascination as our Mount Graham wildflower walk winds to an end in the shaded coolness of Snow Flat. Eager now, my eyes search the grass beside the running stream. Could that tall, slender candle of a green plant possibly be what I think it is? No checking in the field guide this time: I call out confidently to my long-suffering guides. And so it is, an orchid of the Habenaria or bog orchid group.

In that flushed moment of triumph, I wonder anew at the infinite surprise, not only of Arizona's native orchids, but also of nurtured, hybrid blooms. How enchanted I have become of the wild, mountain species. How grateful for greenhouse orchids gently grown.

Non-native orchids (OPPOSITE PAGE), like these two lady's slipper specimens cultivated by Clarence Lindsten, can be grown quite successfully in greenhouses. The yellow plant at far left is the result of cross-pollination of Paphiopedilum chamberlainianum and P. roebilinii. The white orchid is P. maudiae. (LEFT) The rare Canelo lady's tresses (Spiranthes graminea), a native species found only in the Canelo Hills area on the western slopes of the Huachuca Mountains, provides a floral home for a tiny spider.

The Art and Craft of Growing Orchids, by Leslie Brown. Putnam, New York, 1976.

The Orchids: Natural History and Classification, by Robert L. Dressler. Harvard University Press, Cambridge, 1981.

The Native Orchids of the United States and Canada, Excluding Florida, by Carlyle A. Luer. New York Botanical Garden, New York, 1975.