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Turkey tails grows on dead, deciduous wood, in the wounds of living hardwoods, and sometimes on conifers. I found a parade marching up one trunk of a three-trunked ironwood on the Upland Walk near the turnoff to the North Tuckahoe Valley trail. It was easy to imagine small gnomes clamoring up the turkey tail ladder to reach the top of the tree. Although the fungi-bedecked trunk was dead, the rest of the tree appeared thriving.
If you follow the Blockston Branch Walk to where it splits and turn left, you'll find another magical plant just past the bridge at the base of a towering sweetgum tree. Here, a brown stalk of Jack in the Pulpit holds aloft a cluster of scarlet berries like a jaunty magic wand. The berries' flaming scarlet color rivals that of any witch's apple. Although Jack in the Pulpits are fairly prevalent along our streamside paths, only the female plants fruit, making them a rarer find.
As with a poison apple, the berries of Jack in the Pulpit should not be eaten. They contain calcium oxalate, a chemical compound that can cause blistering or choking. Even touching the plant should be avoided without protection. Nevertheless, wood thrush, turkeys, and other wild birds eat the fruit, spreading the seeds after ingestion.
A magical fruit that can be eaten by humans is found in Emily's Play Garden, where passionflower abounds. A true diva, passionflower is not afraid of eliminating competition. Festooned in dragon claw leaves, the vines climb over the fence, crowd the paths, and entwine our other perennials. When still green, the fruit will pop if stepped on, earning it the name "maypop." Passionflower fruit ripens to yellow. I've never eaten one (the wildlife always beat me to it), but they're reputed to contain a bevy of small black seeds encased in sweet, gelatinous pulp.
Nature's magic is something I appreciate throughout the week before Fairyfest as I string painted pinecones and yarn pom poms from the trees, hang beribboned bells from branches, and wrap tulle around the Arboretum's iconic red chairs. Amid the fevered flurry, one thing reassures me: whether or not I nail the decorations, Nature already has.
Jenny Houghton
Assistant Director
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