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Bogged Down in Winter
Swamp rose (Rosa palustris).
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Bogged Down in Winter
The critically-imperiled bog turtle (Glyptemys muhlenbergii).
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Bogged Down in Winter
Bogs are home to all kinds of unique plants. Adam Bigelow photo
I’ve been getting bogged down a lot this year. I don’t mean that I’ve been in a quagmire or morass necessarily, but I’ve been slogging through some incredibly beautiful wetland ecosystems in the mountains and throughout the southeastern United States.
I’ve been bog stomping.
Among the many varied ecosystem types one can find in the mountains are the Southern Appalachian Mountain Bog ecotype. Mountain bogs are among the rarest habitat types in North America. Characterized by wet, acidic soil that is often waterlogged and filled with Sphagnum moss, trudging through a mountain bog is a great way to see some rare and special plants and other wildlife.
And it’s a great way to lose a poorly tied shoe or loose sandal. There is a special sound the wet ground makes when you step onto what you assumed was solid, only for your foot to sink into the mire with a “squish” and a “squoosh.” That is a highly recognized sound for those who study wetlands. I once stepped without care into a spot at the “Vertical Bog” on the Blue Ridge Parkway and could see my footprint for years after.
Bogs are filled with life of all kinds. These ecotones, or transition zones, between wooded areas and open lands are great places for birds, insects, snakes, salamanders and other reptiles to flourish. Mountain bogs are the home of the critically imperiled bog turtle (Glyptemys muhlenbergii), one of the smallest species of turtle in the world.
Mountain bogs are also home to some really cool plants, which is of course the reason that I’ve found myself trudging through them a lot this year. Cool shrubs like hazel alder (Alnus serrulata), silky willow (Salix sericea), swamp rose (Rosa palustris), shrubby St John’s worts (Hypericum prolificum and H. densiflorum) and elder (Sambucus canadensis) grow along the margins and in the hummocks.
Cinnamon ferns (Osmundastrum cinnamomeum) grow along side of many different kinds of sedges (Juncus spp. and Scirpus spp.) and grasses (Poaceae). Wildflowers like goldenrods (Solidago spp.) and turtleheads (Chelone spp.) abound in these wetlands, including special orchids like the yellow-fringed orchid (Platanthera ciliaris) and grass pinks (Calapogon tuberosus).
The real trap that lures me into these boggy lands are the carnivorous—or more correctly insectivorous—plants that can be found growing in a bog. Sundews (Drosera spp.) tend to be overlooked as they are small and growing flat along the ground. Two rare species of pitcher plants live in mountain bogs, the Southern Appalachian purple pitcherplant (Sarracenia purpurea var. montana) and the mountain sweet pitcherplant (Sarracenia jonesii). And if you look carefully, you can find one of the insectivorous bladderworts (Utricularia spp.) that live in the mountain bog.
Carnivorous plants have evolved to live in the bogs as an adaptation to get nitrogen and other nutrients by consuming insects that are not available to the plants in these waterlogged, acidic soils. In one way or another, most carnivorous plants attract insects with a sweet and sticky substance that in many ways resembles the stomach acids used by animals for digestion. The insects become stuck in the syrupy exudates and die. Their decomposing bodies then release nutrients that plants use for sustenance.
Bladderworts have a different strategy for capturing their prey. They produce little sacs along modified stems that are suspended in the water they grow in. These sacs, or bladders, have a different pressure than what is outside of them. When triggered, the bladders open up and suck in the bug like a vacuum.
I’m no stick in the mud. Carnivorous plants are cool. So is bog stomping. Just be gentle so as to not crush the plants. And careful to not lose a shoe.