Have yourself a toxic berry Christmas

Photo by Heather Cowper
Photo by Heather Cowper

It’s evening on Christmas Eve, and it’s cold. The early sunset was hours ago, and the insulating clouds have vanished, leaving every surface frozen and glittering like the inside of a geode wherever the light from the street lamps touch. A couple braces as they leave their car and step out into the winter air, their ears filled with the sound of the snow creaking and crunching beneath each fall of their boots, each breath precipitating into thin, gray tendrils that slide past their chilled cheeks. They reach the door of their destination; a home glowing and warm, with muffled laughter and the clatter of silverware spilling out into the dry, stratospheric cold of the street. One of them places a round of knocks below a voluminous wreath of holly, its scarlet berries already wearing a film of frost. The door opens abruptly, and after a series of joyous embraces of ugly-sweatered chests, the couple presents their gift of wine and pie. The magnetic pull of heat, smiles, and carbohydrates draws them inside for the night. As they approach the nexus of the living room, they slowly push through a cavalcade of family members, faces flush with inebriation and the radiative heat of a wood-fired stove. One of them finally reaches a table, liberally adorned with sweets and beverages. They pour two mugs of eggnog, taking care to not catch fire on the centerpiece, a gloriously over-done amalgamation of poinsettias, Christmas roses, and candles. The couple rejoins away from the social huddle of guffaws and crosstalk. They take a swig of their viscous treat, and one of them notes the mistletoe pinned on the beam above them. With a wink and smile, they participate in an age-old tradition, and their lips meet.

Not once do they stop to ponder the noxious notoriety of every plant they’ve come across. From the holly on the door to the mistletoe above their heads, they are surrounded by species with toxic reputations. How did these potential poisons come to be symbolic of a holiday celebrating life and good health? Well, that’s a good story… Continue reading “Have yourself a toxic berry Christmas”

‘Tis the Season for Symbiosis

The whooping calls of howler monkeys were an effective alarm. I rolled up my mosquito net and hastily yanked on the pair of skinny jeans I had draped over the chair next to my bed. Ugh. They were still wet from yesterday’s rain. My luggage had gotten caught in LAX on my way to Lima, and even though I’d waited an extra day before heading to Puerto Maldonado, it hadn’t caught up with me. I’d just have to grin and bear it for now.
Aaron and Jeff examine the mysterious yellow bulbs. Photo by Christie Wilcox
Aaron and Jeff examine the mysterious yellow bulbs. Photo by Christie Wilcox

Soon, we set out on the trail — we being Jeff Cremer (an award-winning photographer), Aaron Pomerantz (entomologist for the center), our guide from the Tambopata Research Center, Frank Pichardo, and myself. “There’s something you’ve gotta see,” Aaron said. As we rounded the bend in the trail, it was obvious what he was referring to — in front of us stood a tall tree covered in strange, raised yellow spots. “What are those?” I asked him. He didn’t know. But while colorful bulbs had caught Aaron’s eye, what really intrigued him was what he found living amongst the canary protrusions: a caterpillar he’d never seen before, tended to by ants. Jeff zoomed with his macro lens while Aaron collected some of the larvae to hopefully raise into adults.

The caterpillar spotted by Aaron and its hymenopteran protective detail. Gif by Aaron Pomerantz
The caterpillar spotted by Aaron and its hymenopteran protective detail. Gif by Aaron Pomerantz, filmed with the help of Chris Johns

I picked at one of the bulbs. The yellowish dome seemed to erupt from the bark, sometimes with a brownish cup at the base. The bulb itself was firm, but not that tough — my fingernail easily penetrated and split it in half. No visible spores, nothing to suggest they were the fruiting bodies of some fungus. The bulbs seemed plant-like, though unlike any plant parts I’d ever seen. There are trees that have fruits which burst from the trunk and branches, but those fruits are much larger, and this tree had dark, larger fruits on higher limbs. The yellow bulbs just seemed out of place, like they didn’t belong.

It turns out they didn’t.

The mysterious yellow bulbs sprouting from the tree's bark. Photo by Christie Wilcox
The mysterious yellow bulbs sprouting from the tree’s bark. Photo by Christie Wilcox

Continue reading “‘Tis the Season for Symbiosis”