The spring wildflowering season is finally upon us. Before long we will have reacquainted ourselves with foamflower, the trilliums, wild ginger and the various heart-leaves, spring beauty, trailing arbutus, the violets and phloxes, bloodroot, Mayapple, wild columbine, squirrel corn and Dutchman’s-breeches, chickweed, trout lily, and all of the other early wildflowers that put on such a dazzling show.

It’s a good time to reflect upon the plant hunters and botanists who first entered these mountains over two centuries ago to collect, survey, and propagate these treasures. That was an exciting and significant period in early American scientific history. Those early plant hunters laid the groundwork for the period of classification that followed in the 19th century and the era of ecological analysis and preservation in which we now find ourselves.

We have, alas, in just a few generations gone from a time of what seemed to be endless botanical riches to one in which many species and entire habitats teeter on the brink of extinction. If we pause to look back and reflect upon those old-time plant hunters, it may provide us with some of the spirit and insight necessary to fully appreciate and protect the region’s unique botanical heritage in our own time.

The full story of this remarkable age of plant hunting has yet to be told in a single volume, but the essential components are delineated in various sources that are, for the most part, readily available. A good place to start in regard to any aspect of Appalachian natural history is Maurice Brooks’ The Appalachians (1965), wherein the stories of “lost” plants like Shortia and Fraser’s sedge are retold. From there one might move to Joseph Kastner’s well-written and delightful overview A Species of Eternity (1977). Therein, the author outlines the discoveries of America’s naturalists, from the earliest colonial times up through the Audubon period in the mid-19th century.

Lost Heritage (1970), by the Camden, S.C., attorney Henry Savage Jr., focuses in particular upon botanical efforts made in the southern portion of the country. Savage has chapters devoted to the pioneering explorations, observations, and collections made by John Lawson, Mark Catesby, and John Bartram along the eastern seaboard and piedmont. He also pays attention to William Bartram, John Fraser, and the Michauxs (father and son), all of whom penetrated the mountains of Western North Carolina in the latter decades of the 18th century.

Various volumes on the Bartrams have been published through the years, but the place to start is William’s colorful description of his adventures first issued in 1791. My favorite text is the Naturalist’s Edition titled The Travels of William Bartram (1958), edited and annotated by Frances Harper. In Andre and Francois Michaux (1986), Henry Savage focuses upon the story of those remarkable Frenchmen as they crisscrossed the mountains for nearly two decades.

A newer book that may not be in your library system (but should be) is Stephen Spongberg’s A Reunion of Trees: The Discovery of Exotic Plants and their Introduction into North American and European Landscapes (1990). The author is a horticultural specialist at the Arnold Arboretum in Boston, Mass., who has himself journeyed to China in search of rare plants.

The book tells the story of botanical explorations throughout the world, starting with the colonial period on down to the present. Spongberg’s vivid portrait of the early plant hunters of the southeastern region of the United States contained in his opening chapters is groundbreaking in regard to its synthesis of significant events and figures  as well as for the author’s keen eye for telling details. The illustrations of various people and plants culled from obscure sources bring the pages to life.

The so-called mountain camillia (Stewartia ovata) is a trendy plant these days in horticultural circles. Mention its name in the right setting and eyes will light up. Some years ago, I described in a regional newspaper a form of Stewartia that I had located on the Little Tennessee River with purple stamens. At least 10 people immediately contacted me about its location.

Stewartia is a grand plant that would make a stunning addition in wildflower gardens as a small tree or shrub if the proper techniques for propagation could be developed. The story of Stewartia’s discovery is precisely told and illustrated by Spongberg, along with those of Southern Appalachian specialities like oconee bells (Shortia galacifolia), fetterbush (Pieris floribunda), Fraser’s magnolia (Magnolia fraseri), various rhododendrons, and others.

I hope you are inspired to take a closer look at these printed sources and make the early tradition of plant hunting in WNC a part of your own flower-hunting forays.

For a sense of what it was like back then, let’s close with a description from Andre Michaux’s journal. On June 14, 1787, Michaux was proceeding up the Whitewater River on the present S.C.-N.C line just south of Cashiers. Without being aware of their location, he had already passed through one of the two regions in the world in which Shortia occurs naturally. He discovered a stand of Shortia and collected a specimen of the fruit that was deposited in an herbarium in Paris. Asa Gray, America’s first great botanist, discovered that fruiting structure in Paris in the early 1840s. He set off a search for the plant in the southern mountains that lasted for most of the century.

“We had to pass over rocks, straddle huge trees fallen over thick bushes where we could hardly see to go because of the density of the thicket, the high close hills and the darkness which gloomy weather produced in that location, and the fogs which made it appear as if deep night surrounded us.

“The trouble and the confusion were increased by the noise of the waterfalls of this river over rocks and several creeks which we had to ford ... (In) these surroundings there were no other paths but those beaten by bears and sometimes by Indians. On top of the continual worry of walking over snakes I sensed an increase of horrible fear when we had to pass over huge trees which were so rotten that they gave way under the feet and we were half buried under the bark and the leaves surrounding them.”

Come to think of it, the gorge region of the Blue Ridge escarpment, once fully engaged, is not very much different today. It’s rough, exhilarating country. There are still beautiful wildflowers to discover there and elsewhere in these mountains that will be entirely new to you and me. Perhaps we need to emulate the spirit of those old-time plant hunters.

(George Ellison is a writer who lives in Bryson City. He wrote the biographical introductions for the reissues of two Appalachian classics: Horace Kephart’s Our Southern Highlanders and James Mooney’s History, Myths, and Sacred Formulas of the Cherokees. Readers can contact him at P.O. Box 1262, Bryson City, N.C., 287713, or at ellisongeorge@cs.com.)

 

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