When the average person thinks about a bog—if any thought is
put to them at all—images conjured in the mind often descend onto stereotypical
pictures of dismal swamps, ripe with swarms of mosquitoes and unholy smells,
and of course, the singular home of Hollywood “swamp monsters.” Few would list
any positive attributes, mostly, because, so few have actually spent anytime
near these places, other than the occasional drive-by. These important wetlands
have been much maligned over the years. The fact of the matter is, most who
actually take the time to visit a bog, or other similar place will come to
appreciate them for their uncanny beauty, and the rich assortment of unusual
life they contain. Yes, bogs, like other wetlands, are undoubtedly somewhat
smelly and often contain stagnant water that isn’t the most visually appealing,
but the same can be said about the various cheeses of the world, some that not
only unsightly—and sometimes purposefully contain mold—but also possess a scent
that makes us wish we could sandblast our nose from our face, after imbibing a
rancid whiff. Despite these unpleasant airs, we still crave and copiously devour
them. So, why should we be so quick to dismiss the similarly misunderstood
bogs, which make up for their so-called faults in other ways, too?
Bogs, like other wetlands, are absolutely amazing places. Their
importance cannot be overstated. These drowned parcels of land contribute
greatly to the continued health and well-being of the environment, acting as
the lungs and liver of the earth, as it were. Much of the waste that we aloofly
flood our planet with, from noxious atmospheric emissions to pesticides and
other industrial chemicals, ultimately find their way into these various mucky
sponges where they are graciously filtered and broken down or sequestered by
complex interactions between microbes and plants. We may much prefer to have a
pristine lake on our property that matches the azure tint of the sky and teems
with abundant arrays of fish; but dingy, shallow wetlands, are a far more
valuable natural resource.
These wetlands fall into four main categories: swamps,
marshes, fens, and bogs. Swamps are dominated by trees, while marshes are
characterized by non-woody herbaceous vegetation, such as cattails and reeds.
Fens and bogs in the Northeast are usually rarer and are exceptionally rich in
organic matter, often forming dense layers of peat. They are alkaline and acidic, respectively.
Fens receive replenishment mostly from flowing groundwater sources. Their pH
reflects that of the surrounding strata, which usually happens to be limestone,
a highly alkaline rock. Plants inhabiting fens include mostly grasses, sedges,
and reeds. Bogs, on the other hand, receive almost all their water from
rainfall. With only minor additions of water—none from free-flowing sources—organic
matter within the bog acidifys the surroundings, resulting in an unusually low
pH that creates the perfect habitat for strange, alien looking plant species.
Bogs contain sphagnum moss, heaths, and certain other shrubs. The elusive
cranberries also call these spots home; a walk through them in mid-October
reveals a remarkably Christmas-like display of beauty, with plump ruby
ornaments attached to stalks whose leaves closely resemble evergreen needles,
all tucked among soft, lime-green mats of moss that gently float atop the
stagnant water. The display of color and attractive sights are not solely
confined to autumn, however. At the peak of summer there are equally attractive
sights arising from the blooming of carnivorous
plants.
Carnivores
Contrary to what most people believe, there are, in fact,
several species of plants which have an insatiable hunger for flesh. Although,
their idea of a hearty meal isn’t that of pork chops or a steak, but rather of
smaller prey, namely insects. “Carnivorous plants” is an appellation much more
terrifying than these organisms actually are (at least for anything other than
an insect!). Nevertheless, the plants are impressive to behold. Their ingenious mechanisms for capturing prey
demonstrate the remarkable power of evolution to shape life to overcome all
impediments. Carnivorous plants have evolved to trap insects to survive in an
environment that’s nutrient poor, lacking primarily in nitrogen and
phosphorous. The pH in bogs is so low as to inhibit the decomposition of plant
and animal matter, thus keeping these important elements locked up. In most
other environments they are easily recycled and plants do just fine obtaining
their necessary requirements by more mundane means (i.e. absorbing them via the
roots from fertile soil). Nitrogen and phosphorous are richly abundant in
animals, and these select plants have done well to exploit it from the crawling
and flying source of fertilizer that abounds nearby.
In this part of the country, the most common and easily
visible plants that capture insects are sundews and pitcher plants.
Unfortunately, the well-known and archetypal “venus fly-trap,” is absent from
northern bogs, being restricted to a narrow range in the southeast. Sundews and
pitcher plants capture prey by very different means.
Sundews snare their
prey by use of a sweet smelling attractant with glue-like properties that’s
exuded from the tip of thin hairs on tiny round or oval shaped leaves. Any
insect that happens to wander across a leaf in search of the tempting treat
gets stuck on the gleaming bristles, ultimately perishing mired down in the
faux nectar. After a short time the leaves slowly bend and wrap around the
insect, digesting it by use of special enzymes whereby it may extract the
precious nutrients.
Pitcher plants don’t snare insects, but entrap them in their
cavernous “pitchers.” Like the sundews, these plants secrete a sweet nectar
that’s present on the lip of the funnel. Insects are drawn by the smell and by
the shape and color of the pitchers, which happen to somewhat resemble an
opened flower. Pitchers vary considerably in color, some being entirely green
or red, others with numerous combinations of mixing. The ruddy hues in
particular draw insects; some think it’s a brightly colored flower, while flies, are inclined to believe it to be the exposed flesh of carrion. Once at the lip of the
pitcher many insects either fall or purposely dive into the interior. Either
way, they are unlikely to make an exit once at the bottom. The upper portions
of the pitcher are waxy and slick, while further down towards the base the
sides are lined with downward pointing hairs. It’s almost like a lobster
pot—creatures have little difficulty in getting in, but are at a loss when it
comes to escaping. Enzymes excreted by bacteria coalesce at the base creating a
solution sometimes with a pH as low as 2, easily liquefying whatever happens to
fall in.
Diversity
Growing alongside these oddities, though almost always at
greatly diminished numbers, are the fairer and more refined orchids. Often,
they stand out in a swamp like a torch does in the blackness of night. They are
quite vibrant with an elegancy that overshadows all surrounding plant life,
making even the flowers of the carnivores look vapid and uninspiring. Several
different species of orchids that exclusively flourish in boggy habitat are
scattered across the Northeast, almost all of them extremely rare. The “Dragon’s Mouth Orchid” is among the
finest, living up to its name in appearance and sprucing up the bog with
purple-pink flashes of “fire” emanating from its ephemeral blossoms. Other similar looking species include “Grass
Pink” and “Rose Pogonia.” Not all bogs contain this class of plants. Countless
hours may be devoted to combing through wetlands looking for rarities such as
these. Making it even more difficult is
the fact that most bog orchids bloom for only a short duration during the early days of
summer. Orchids are also among the pickiest plants, growing only where the
environmental and biological conditions are absolutely perfect, even the
slightest variation resulting in their absence. The main factor responsible for
their establishment is the presence of a specific type of fungus that orchids form
a mutualistic relationship with.
Now when it comes to animal life, these places are nearly as
rich in diversity as the assortment of plants they contain. Innumerable species
of dragonflies and damselflies, the odonates, zig zag back and forth between
the open water and half-terrestrial environments of the floating mats and dense
stands of sedges and reeds, alighting momentarily from time to time on any
piece of vegetation that stands alone, or is higher than the rest, seeking out
a vantage point similarly to what a hiker does while climbing a scenic
mountain. It’s an ever-changing kaleidoscope of color and shape that’s enhanced
and magnified by the reflection of the water. From time to time these insects repose
on one of the sundews that line the edges of the sphagnum mats, and succumb to
the sticky leaves; most, however, at least the larger dragonflies, have
strength enough to overcome the force of the miniscule droplets of glue and
take to the air again where they may become prey for avian marsh species.
Lining the fallen logs that lie partially submerged
throughout the bogs, sometimes for decades before they disappear by decay or sink
entirely, are the turtles who bask themselves in the warmth of the sun to
thermoregulate and kill parasites and algae. Being cold-blooded, turtles must
adjust their own core temperature by spending the appropriate amount of time in
sun and shade. Like almost everything else inhabiting these wetlands, uncommon
to rare varieties are located here. Bog and wood turtles, two closely related
species that are the only members of their genus, are only infrequently found
outside this habitat type.
In the ripeness of summer white-tailed deer are apt to
venture into the murky water and swim out to the mats to raze the flowers of
the pitcher plants from their lengthy stalks, their movements easily being seen
where their narrow legs have compressed the moss, sometimes having punched
through entirely to the water. Bears, too, also make the occasional foray. With
their tremendous weight and not so graceful lumbering they tend to stick the
edges, enjoying huckleberries and highbush blueberries that exist in copious
profusion in many areas. The berries having an ample supply of moisture
regularly become twice the size of those found atop dry and rocky mountain
summits. Despite bogs being nutrient poor, there’s a cornucopia of biodiversity to be
found within them that surpasses typical forest environments.
Supernatural Evening
When night creeps in on these places man usually beats a
hasty retreat to the safety of more hospitable venues. For millennia, only the
bravest of souls tempted fate by lingering in these so-called haunted locales,
where countless superstitions told of the restless souls of the departed who
roamed the melancholy bogs in penance for their earthly sins. It was also firmly
believed that demons and vengeful spirits took abode here, nightly attempting
to lure passersby to their doom in the quicksand-like mire by emitting beacons
of light that would draw humans to their demise like unwitting moths.
As the sun begins to set and the mists slowly settle heavily
over the swampy plains, the last notes of song birds subside giving way to a
silence only periodically interrupted by the rustling of the sedges and creaking
of dead branches. Shadows grow and multiply from what little light remains from
the nearly extinguished sun. A calming influence overtakes the viewer
temporarily. But, anyone who remains for any length of time at this twilight
hour peering into the murky abyss will begin to become unsettled upon hearing what
sounds like broken strains of human voices carried in on the gusts of wind. The
imagination ripe with remembrances of ghostly tales begins to overtake reason. As
primal fear and uncertainty multiply and quicken the pulse, a brief but robust
colorful flash of light penetrates the darkness from the far side of the bog. Another
burst soon goes off. Is this an exceptionally large firefly? Swamp gas? Or is
it something more sinister?—Could it be a demonic will-o’-the-wisp looking for
some hapless victim to accompany it for eternity on its nightly scourings in
the chill and dampness of the acid sphagnum? There’s only one way to know for
sure…
Perhaps this is one secret best left alone.
