Are you a dandelion or an orchid?

photo from HerbCompanion.com

Those of you who know me know that I actively seek scientific explanations for what I observe in the world.  I have been trained in natural history with a heavy dose of evolutionary theory.  I will almost always ask, "How is _______ an adaptive trait?", whether I'm looking at pollination in the garden, or the hunting behaviors of my cats.

I recently read a brilliant essay called "The Orchid Children", by David Dobbs, originally published in The Atlantic, now in a collection called The Best American Science Writing 2010.  Dobbs explores the "orchid hypothesis" which suggests that genes which predispose some people to behavioral dysfunction may also enhance function in favorable contexts.

He explains that there are "dandelion children" (the social norm) who, thanks to resilient genes, do pretty well "whether raised in the equivalent of a sidewalk crack or a well-tended garden".  And then there are "orchid children" with a certain gene variant (about 1 in 5 people), "who will wilt if ignored or maltreated but bloom spectacularly with greenhouse care".  This risk allele has survived in the human population precisely because the risky behaviors have positive effects in certain contexts.  In fact, Dobbs refers to humans (and rhesus monkeys who share the risky serotonin-transporter allele with us) as "weedy species . . . able to adapt to new, changing or disturbed environments".  The fact that there is wide variability in our behavioral genes, may have allowed humans to thrive on this planet.

photo from PolkaDotPotato.com

For three weeks this fall I took a job working with a kindergartener with behavioral issues.  I'll call him "Nate".  Nate is a husky five-year-old who has already experienced his share of life's hard knocks and who is very smart.  In the time I worked with him, he exhibited many "externalizing" behaviors including kicking, hitting, pushing, and tripping other students (and me), and throwing temper tantrums when something wasn't going Nate's way.  At first, we removed him from the classroom and allowed him to spend most of his day in the resource room where he had a quiet environment and one-on-one attention.  Gradually, Nate chose to spend more of his time with his peers in the kindergarten class, but still needed a lot of intervention.  One day his teacher selected him to be "King of the Day", a rotating honor that is "randomly" bestowed upon each child.  Nate bloomed that day.  You have never seen a happier, prouder, more responsible little boy.  Adults who observed him wearing his paper crown AND smiling AND observing the rules all remarked on his changed affect.  After that day, Nate's behavior steadily improved to the point where he is now fully integrated into kindergarten WITHOUT an aid.  Nate is an orchid.  If he is given an optimal environment, he blooms and may even do better than his peers.

Most of us are dandelions.  We were pliable, obedient children, who didn't attract undue attention in school, could get along with our peers, and have bounced back pretty well when life got hard.  But we also know those orchids who were sensitive or sad, who were always in trouble at school, and developed dangerous habits later in life.  Somehow our society must continue to support those orchids and encourage them to thrive, because who knows?  Their specific strengths and abilities, if nurtured, might just be the key to our species' survival.

photo from Gator-Woman.com

Nature as gambler

Fall colors in the Pasayten

In my last post, "Gardener as gambler", I was thinking about how I hedge my bets in the garden, watching the weather forecast, harvesting some produce while risking the loss of some to eke out the last golden days of Indian summer.

Living here in the Methow Valley, the observant human witnesses natural gambling in every season.  I know from studying natural history, that in every population of plants, insects, and animals, there exist outliers - those individuals who push the envelope just a little by reproducing or migrating earlier or later in the season, or expanding into new territory.

Photo from Birdwatching-bliss.com

Hummingbirds are one obvious example.  They move up the valley each spring, gaining elevation, probably following the blooming willows and wild currants.  What benefits do the early comers derive?  Nights often drop below freezing when I observe my first hummer in April, and I rush to put out a hummingbird feeder to provide calories to the cold little gamblers.  Every fall I'm sure all the hummers have headed south and I'm ready to take down the feeder when one little guy will show up for another drink.  I had a visitor to the feeder at breakfast today, October 11.  "Fly south you little knucklehead!"

There are A LOT of mule deer here.  Our property is on the East Chewuch "deer highway" which connects the town deer (yes, that's what we call them) with the good foraging up river.  I won't share my thoughts on the deer population with you today, just know that they are doing VERY WELL.  

Mule deer youth in our front yard.

We observe our first spotted fawn each year in May or June.  This year I'm pretty sure that one doe produced triplets, but I don't know if all three survived.  Each year in the fall, we notice that some of the first-year fawns are noticeably less robust than their peers.  They were probably born later.  I actually say to them, "Eat up, winter's coming", because once snow lies and there's nothing green to eat, those little guys will begin  to starve.  They must survive off whatever fat they've managed to store up in their first summer of life.  Here's the hard part.  Every winter, Frank and I haul frozen yearling mule deer carcasses off the property after the lethal nights of the cold moon (January) and the hunger moon (February).

Frank in "the tube" sliding off the porch roof.

Every winter there's a thaw period, sometimes accompanied by the "Pineapple Express", a warm wind that blows out of the Pacific Ocean.  Daytime and nighttime temperatures may stay above freezing for a week or more, snow slides off the roof, and we'll actually have puddles of meltwater on the driveway.  Guess who shows up about then?  Mosquitoes.  That's right, every winter some number of mosquitoes hatch out during the thaw, only to perish before reproducing.  It's a gamble that must pay off some years, to be that first mosquito to hatch out in the spring.

Asparagus on May 5

The gardener as gambler

It's gambling season for Methow Valley gardeners.   The garden thermometer has read 32 degrees Fahrenheit on a couple of mornings, however my garden has not yet sustained a killing frost.  I honestly don't know why the tender plants haven't yet turned black, but I'll take my luck as long as it holds.

We've enjoyed lovely, warm days for the last week or so, and that's been enough to keep the tomatoes ripening, the zucchinis setting fruit (thanks to winged pollinators), and the pole beans blooming.  I've been watering the still-producing sections of the garden, too, which has kept those plants strong enough to withstand chilly nights.

purple pole beans

So, in what ways do I gamble in the garden?  Well, I didn't feel like gambling at all with the chiles when two weeks ago I harvested all peppers of an edible size.  Last year we had a killing freeze on September 21st which turned the peppers to mush, so this year I was more cautious.  I did, however, leave some smallish ones on the plants, and lo how they've grown in the last couple weeks!  That was a gamble that paid off.  Don't pull the plants if there's still hope for an Indian summer.

Every day I go out and assess the situation.  Do I pick all the baby beans, or wait another day?  Will these baby zucchinis get any bigger, or will they freeze tonight?  Shall I give the just-coloring-up Roma tomatoes another afternoon in the sunshine, or play it safe and harvest them all?  Our old-fashioned apple varieties actually benefit from a bit of frost, so I'll definitely wait for them to develop optimal flavor.

ripening Roma and Stupice tomatoes

Brandied grapes

This is our first year to enjoy a harvest of "Venus" grapes.  I think I've finally decided what to do with them (Boozy Concord Grapes thanks to the NY Times).  I'll let you know how it comes out in about a month . . . .

Turns out that dark purple is ripe.  They have a nice, sweet, Concord-grapey flavor.