Excitement crackles in the air whenever the news passes from one volunteer to the next about a flower--a rarely seen flower, and in an overlooked corner--that is blooming in the Botanic Garden. For example, Orobanche parishii, having bloomed once in 1997, came up again in May 2018. Several of us scoured the rocky beds of Southern California Desert Section, looking for a low-growing broomrape we had never seen before. Nobody found it. We went to the source of the information, Bart O’Brien, and sure enough, there it was! It was already shriveled, in rusty buff color, and just three inches high. But the fact that this little parasitic plant makes itself amenable to cultivation is already celebratory!
Once I was roaming the less-visited paths of Canyon Section when a tiny plant caught my attention. It was white except for a pink stem, and several delicate ivory flower buds were forming. No chlorophyll, and growing in the shade—could it be living on nutrients provided by trees nearby? I was excited by discovering a parasitic plant unknown to me. I showed its photos to Joe Dahl. He thought for a moment, and said, “You know what, I think it’s an albino Epipactis gigantea.” Once he said it, I recognized every bit of Stream Orchid in it. Although being nutrient deficient, it may well be called pygmaeus. Not a rare plant, but it is a rare form!
The same thrill exists for birders who find a rare bird (rarity being defined by location, season, or any other phenological yardstick). Having come to the Botanic Garden to watch birds for years, I am still surprised from time to time by a rare occurrence. The current prize is a female Belted Kingfisher. The garden staff has seen her displaying and rattling by the pond since the beginning of September. Kingfisher may not be a rare bird in the Bay Area, but previously appeared in our Garden only anecdotally.
In fact, any bird not in the Garden’s 4-year accumulated checklist of 81 is worthy of the title “rarity”. The year 2020, if nothing else, has proved to be fruitful for wildlife sightings. The tenacious bird survey volunteers of the Garden saw Willow Flycatcher, Lawrence’s Goldfinch, Hooded Oriole and Chipping Sparrow gracing us with their unusual presence.
I am particularly intrigued by Chipping Sparrow. It looked very much in its element in our Garden when I laid my eyes on it in disbelief early July, 2020, soon after the Garden reopened with a reservation system. The bird stood on a tree branch, hopped around, then dropped to the ground and disappeared behind shrubs and rocks. I happened to have been in Yosemite two weeks earlier, and saw Chipping Sparrows there in the open woodlands around 7,000 ft. I had come across the species in the Bay Area, too, but only on the east side of the Berkeley-Oakland Hills; such as Briones Park and Mount Diablo. Why did it come to the moist and wooded west side of the hills? I looked up eBird reports, and found two other records of Chipping Sparrow in the Garden in recent years. I can’t help suspecting that Chipping Sparrow must know a thing or two about the drying of our hills, and the corresponding change of plant community.
“Only once during my rambles about Berkeley have I discovered the strange Townsend’s solitaire.... It is much like a fly-catcher in general appearance, but in structure more closely allied to the thrushes. It is rather larger than a sparrow in size, decidedly longer and more slender, and is colored a plain, slaty gray all over, becoming lighter upon the under parts of the body. It usually inhabits the mountains and is a rare, shy creature, very easily overlooked on account of its severe coloring.” Written a hundred and twenty years ago by Charles Keeler, a poet and naturalist who called Berkeley home, this passage describes my own encounters with Townsend’s Solitaire perfectly. When a Solitaire looked me in the eye as it sat in Santa Cruz Island Ironwood at Channel Island Section one October day, I was in shock. I texted fellow birders cum docents and urged them to come witness the rare moment. I had never done it before or since.
The Botanic Garden is made ever more attractive by its rare gems that don’t stay long. It evinces an irresistible pull to birds, amphibians, mammals (including me) and more. And who’s gonna resist?
(Printed in Manzanita, Fall 2020, with several changes and different illustrations.)
