Fall surprises

I learned to identify a familiar plant by a new part recently. I was out walking during lunch when I noticed a cluster of off-white berries in the path. I had picked it up and was twirling it around when a sudden suspicion made me drop it. Sure enough, when I looked up I saw the same kind of berries suspended from the nearest poison ivy vine.

So I moseyed quickly back to work, but not as quickly as I would have if I knew then that poison ivy can cause a rash in as little as ten minutes. Fortunately I was able to wash my hands with dish detergent, which in this case washed away the oil that causes the allergic reaction. This oil is present on all parts of the plant, even after the leaves are dead or the vine goes dormant in the fall.

Poison ivy isn't the only plant whose transformation surprised me this year. I never realized that goldenrod flowers turn to tiny seeds with fluff attached (see previous post) because I was never paying close enough attention until this year. I identified this bittersweet nightshade in bloom, which allowed me to recognize it when it turned color:


Not only are other animals not surprised by poison ivy berries, but many seek them out. They don't suffer the same allergic reaction we do. A few days after my encounter, I watched a chickadee peck at a berry cluster. The berries are low in calories, which makes them a low quality food source for birds and mammals who are more worried by weight loss than weight gain. Birds would rather eat high calorie berries such as the elderberries and buckthorn berries which stain the bags we use for transporting birds for banding. However, low quality berries and seeds play an important role in the dead of winter and early spring, when all the elderberries, buckthorn, autumn olive, and pokeberries have long since been picked clean. Then American tree sparrows will even forage for the tiny goldenrod seeds, bending over the stalks in the process. Diversity is often a better investment against famine than quality.

So we leave the poison ivy alone when it's not right in our yard. Considering the extent of poison ivy in our woods, trying to control them would be tilting at windmills. Instead, I guess I'll add a third couplet to the old "Leaves of three/let it be," and "Only a dope/touches the hairy rope." Maybe "Berries are white?/Beware, may bite!" What it lacks in poetry it makes up for in utility.