orchid trickery

Sawfly Orchid (Ophrys tenthredinifera) Martin Kelsey

Spring comes tumbling in from the middle of March onwards in Extremadura, an avalanche of new birds: migrants fresh from a trans-Saharan crossing, busy and expectant. Indeed by early April I have had sightings of almost all of our summer visitors, apart from just a handful of notoriously later species. The few remaining winter visitors suddenly look out of place - Meadow Pipits appearing even more nervous and jerky than ever.

This is also peak orchid season in Extremadura, with the highest numbers of species findable that are in full and spectacular bloom. I can find orchids in flower from January to June, but late March and early April are when certain spots on the isolated strips of lime-rich soil become places of paradise. Few of these sites can be fairly described as scenic treats. Yes, I know of locations where one will find special orchids in gorgeous meadows surrounded by wild olives and imposing crags, on a slope affording views of eighty kilometres or more. But many of these sites are quite unprepossessing: scrappy corners of derelict land, litter-strewn roadside verges, thin weary almond orchards. I celebrate the presence of orchids in such places, a testament to their determination and mystery.

The name Orchid comes from the Ancient Greek órkhis, which means testicle, on account of the shape of the two tubers shown by some species. One of these tubers stores food for the plant, whilst the other is where the spring growth will occur. Orchids in our climate spend most of the year underground, using the warmth and rainfall of spring for growth, flowering and building up reserves for the following year. It is underground that the wind-blown and almost microscopic seeds encounter the fungi without which they cannot germinate, an intimate life-sustaining relationship invisible to our gaze.

The most intriguing and beguiling of them all are the bee orchids, members of the genus Ophrys. Unlike other orchids and other insect-pollinated plants where the pollinator visits through promise of a nectar reward, the bee orchids use blatant trickery. An extraordinary process of evolution has resulted in the flower mimicking the scent and to some extent the shape and colours of a female insect to bring the male in to land, vainly attempt to mate with it and then to leave with a dusting of pollen. The scent produced will be unique to a single species of insect, on which that orchid will thus depend, luring the male insect with the promise of sex.

Now is the time to see almost all of Extremadura's Ophrys orchids. A few, like the Sawfly Orchid (Ophrys tenthredinifera) are widespread and common, popping up with their joyful clown-like visages in meadows and along drovers' trails (see photo at top of post).

Some like the Early Spider Orchid (O.incubacea) and stunningly-patterned Woodcock Orchid (O.scolopax) can grow as tall slender plants, with flowers spaced along the stem.

Early Spider Orchid (O.incubaceaMartin Kelsey

Woodcock Orchid (O.scolopaxMartin Kelsey

The black and yellow of the Yellow Bee Orchid (O.lutea) tricks the eye in Golden Oriole-fashion, making the plant surprisingly cyptic.

 Yellow Bee Orchid (O.lutea) Martin Kelsey
The highly localised Bumblebee Orchid (O.bombyliflora) is so small and inconspiquous that one wonders whether its rarity is more about the challenge to simply detect it.

Bumblebee Orchid (O.bombylifloraMartin Kelsey

The commoner Mirror Orchid (O.speculum), also small in stature, has a bizarrely shaped flower when seen in close-up.

Mirror Orchid (O.speculumMartin Kelsey

Orchid taxonomy is both complex and fluid. Hybrids are frequent and some species produce variations in colour and patterning that both excite and puzzle the aficionados. Following locally accepted species, I have a special fondness for the Sombre Orchid group: O. fuscus, O. bilunulata and O.dyris. They stand modestly, as if awaiting your discovery, and so easy to overlook if they merely face away from your gaze. The Sombre group continues to yield more discoveries in Extremadura and more debate.

Sombre Orchid group O. fuscus Martin Kelsey

O. bilunulata Martin Kelsey

O.dyris Martin Kelsey
This Ophrys peak subsides as the ground dries and the temperature rises. In their place our focus shifts to the Serapias tongue orchids (also a fest of discovery and taxonomic challenges) as well as species at higher, milder altitudes. But the bee orchids have a swansong as I found, retracing my steps on a favourite path, weeks after my previous visit. Dessicated spikes that had bourne orchid flowers poked through withered brittle grass. I carefully walked through the crisp undergrowth until jolted by surprise with the mocking face, or so it looked, on a clean and fresh Bee Orchid (O.apifera).

Bee Orchid (O.apifera) Martin Kelsey

But nearby was something even more special. Thought to be unique to this hillside beside the town of Almaráz grows what is considered a form of Bee Orchid (O. apifera var. almaracenis), a deep blush, highly pigmented and thriving at precisely that time of year when its other cogeners were slowly shutting down.
Almaráz Bee Orchid (O. apifera var. almaracenis) Martin Kelsey

I left puzzled at what made such a distinct form to be described as a variation rather than true species, baffled by taxonomy. I wondered too whether the male insects tricked by such a distinctive-looking form would be the same as with the regular apifera. Had anyone analysed the scents produced by them? The Ophrys chapter had closed for the year, but questions that I could never answer remained.


Dave said…
Great post Martin, as usual.
Oh what beautiful flowers!! i could look at these pictures all day!! Wish i had a garden to plant some of these!! Great post!! keep up the good work!!

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