On recent walks in the woods, I have noticed that the Indian Pipes are out. 

     You know, those otherworldy-looking, colorless candy canes that push right up through the dried leaves on the forest floor.  The little clusters of waxy-looking, almost translucent white beings fascinate me.  I see them only in the forest, and only here and there. 

     Just what are they?  A fungus?  A plant? They certainly don’t resemble mushrooms.  But, with not a trace of green, they don’t look like plants either.  

     So I decided to do a little research.  The Indian Pipe, also called Ghost Flower  or Corpse Plant, is not a fungus.  It is a plant.  Complete with a stem and leaves (little scales toward the top of the stem), the Indian Pipe is topped by a solitary, nodding, bell-shaped flower.  And solid white.  Like other flowers, the flower of the Indian Pipe contains seeds and is pollinated. 

     But unlike almost all plants that get their energy from sunlight, the Indian Pipe is a saprophyte.  It gets its nourishment from dead and decaying organic matter.  In this sense, the Indian Pipe is like a fungus.   

     Of course the truth is more complicated than simply that the Indian Pipe gets its nourishment from dead and decaying organic matter.  The Indian Pipe is actually nourished by a micorrhizal fungus, an underground intermediary that is attached both to the Indian Pipe and to the roots of a tree.  The fungus is a conduit, sending nourishment it receives from the tree on to the  Indian Pipe!

     The Indian Pipe, which grows throughout eastern forests, has been viewed as a healing plant.  Indians used it to treat colds and fevers.  Early settlers used it to treat fainting spells and nervous conditions.

     And there is a Cherokee legend about the Indian Pipe:  Long ago, when selfishness first entered the world, people began quarreling–first with their own families and tribal members, and then with other tribes.  The chiefs of the several tribes met together to try to solve the problem of quarreling.  They smoked a peace pipe together, while continuing to quarrel among themselves for the next seven days and seven nights.  In punishment for smoking the peace pipe before actually making peace, the Great Spirit turned the chiefs into grey flowers and made them grow where relatives and friends had quarreled.

     The Indian Pipe has also inspired poetry.  Below are a couple of verses about this singular plant, along with a photo.–April Moore  

Pale, mournful flower, that hidest in shade
  Mild dewy damps and murky glade,
    With moss and mould,
      Why dost thou hand thy ghastly head,
        So sad and cold?
      - Catharine Esther Beecher,
        To the Monotropa, or Ghost Flower

Where the long, slant rays are beaming,
  Where the shadows cool lie dreaming,
    Pale the Indian pipes are gleaming–
      Laugh, O murmuring Spring!
      - Sarah Foster Davis, Summer Song

This entry was posted on Wednesday, June 17th, 2009 at 6:48 pm and is filed under Insights and Visions on the State of the Earth. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.