Have a Hakea

This is the fourth in a sporadic series on plants of the great Gondwanan family Proteaceae; it began here, but it might be easiest to go the most recent instalment, on grevilleas, and follow the links back.

While not nearly as large a genus as the better-known Grevillea, Hakea is still pretty substantial with around 150 species recognised. It is possibly less widely familiar because hakeas have generally been less cultivated; they are often regarded as prickly and not as colourfully bloomed as grevilleas, but neither of those observations are anywhere near universally true, as we shall see. All are Australian.

Corkwood Hakea lorea, Kata Tjuta National Park, central Australia.

Hakeas can be found throughout Australia, but unlike grevilleas they do not grow in rainforests. Many, like the Corkwood above, thrive in the arid lands, but like so many Australian groups their stronghold is the fabulously rich sandy heaths of the south-west of the continent. They grow as shrubs or small trees but, again unlike grevilleas, they tend not to form ground covers. 

Mountain Needlebush H. lissosparma, Ben Lomond NP, Tasmania.
As suggested by these two photos, hakeas can be found almost anywhere.

Curiously the genus was named back in 1797 by German botanist Heinrich Adolph Schrader - 'curiously' because that was very early in the history of naming Australian plants, and the Germans weren't generally involved that early (though there were a number of significant collectors later on). In fact he named it in a book (in Latin) of rare plants grown in Hanover gardens. Of course this just begs the question, which is how did it get there so early? I have no answer to this teaser. The species, Hakea teretifolia, is a fairly common east coast one. Schrader called it Hakea glabra, not realising that British botanist Richard Salisbury had already named it Banksia teretifolia the year before. Salisbury's species name had to take precedence, but when it became clear that it wasn't a banksia, Schrader's genus name was the next in line. He named it for Baron Christian Ludwig von Hake, universally described as a Hanover councillor and patron of science (or botany); there must have been a bit more to him but I can't find any of it. 

The name is usually pronounced Hay-kee-a in English, but I prefer Hah-kee-a, that being how the Baron would have said his name - the question of whether we should name organisms after people is a separate one, but if we're going to do so it seems to make sense to pronounce it like the model's name.

A final note before we talk about the real topic - the plants themselves. It's an interesting phenomenon that botanical taxonomists, at least in Australia, seem keen to expand the concept of a genus as widely as possible so that huge genera comprising several former separate taxa are becoming the norm. Zoologists (eg bird taxonomists) meantime, are going the other way and fine-tuning so that it's more common to find genera being split up to reflect subtler differences. It does seem to me that the latter tells us more about the history of the groups, including the timing of their separation. The point here is that we seem to be moving towards lumping Grevillea in with Hakea (which would mean that all Grevillea would become Hakea, not likely to be a popular move among most of the population!).

The most obvious difference between Grevillea and Hakea is in the fruit; while that of Grevillea is brittle and papery, Hakea fruit is hard, woody and even massive.

Mountain Needlebush fruit, Ben Lomond NP, Tasmania.

Many of these species live in fire-prone heathlands, and protect seeds (just one per fruit) in the massive cases. After the fire has passed, and the ash-bed has cooled, the case opens up and drops the seed into the enriched, unshaded, soil.

Post-wildfire opened hakea cones, Lesueur NP, Western Australia.

But for species which do not grow in areas affected by regular fires, the cases are flimsier and do not rely on a fire's heat to open them.

Small-fruit Hakea H. microcarpa, Namadgi NP above Canberra.
This species grows in high country boggy areas which do not regularly burn.

Leaves can be cyclindrical or narrowly strap-like as in the above examples, or flat and leathery.

H. neurophyllya, Lesueur NP, Western Australia.

Some other Western Australian species have unexpected stem-clasping leaves which surround the flowers; it could be that by trapping 'moats' of dew or rain they are preventing ants from stealing nectar.

Scallops H. cucullata, Twin Creeks Reserve near the Stirling Ranges, Western Australia.

Others are divided and spiky.

Unidentified hakea, Shannon NP, south-western Australia. Any suggestions?

Some of the most extraordinary foliage of all however belongs to the remarkable Royal, or Lantern, Hakea H. victoria, which has a small range centred on the Fitzgerald River NP, southern Western Australia. The plant can be three metres high and has colourful leaves the size of large cabbage leaves, surrounding inconspicuous creamy flowers

Lantern Hakeas in Fitzgerald River NP

The leaves of Lantern Hakea; it is likely that at least part of their function is to attract attention to
the otherwise non-obvious flowers.

Hakea flowers are rarely at the tips of branches, as those of grevilleas usually are. Many are indeed simply white and not very dramatic, with small clusters of flowers, as per the oft-heard bias against them as garden plants.

Harsh Hakea H. prostrata, Torndirrup NP, Western Australia.

Other white-flowered ones can be dramatic however, simply through the masses of flowers.

H. recurva, Paynes Find, inland Western Australia.

 Many others are highly colourful with great cylinders or spheres of clustered flowers.

Grass-leaf Hakea H. francisiana (who thought the leaves were its most prominent feature?!),
Pinkawillinie Conservation Park, South Australia.

H. invaginata, Ballidu, Western Australia.

Grass-leaf Hakea (again - see above comment!) H. multilineata, Goldfields Woodlands NP, Western Australia.

So, there's a brief introduction to a genus which may be unfamiliar to some, especially if you're reading this from overseas, and which will probably never overtake Grevillea for popularity in the garden. But I reckon it deserves more admiration than it gets.

BACK ON THURSDAY
(Remember too that if you put your email address into the 'Follow by Email' box at the top
right of the page, you'll automatically be notified when there's a new posting.
It doesn't give me access to your address.)

Heights and Depths: Peru's Colca Valley

Colca Canyon is much-publicised as one of the deepest canyons in the world; only the nearby Cotahuasi Canyon is deeper. Colca's deepest point is 3.4 kilometres below the rim, twice the depth of the Grand Canyon. However this is only part of the valley of the Colca River and the section between the historic town of Chivay and the canyon represents a magnificent landscape with lots of wildlife.

The upper Colca Valley and Chivay are indicated by the arrow, in the southern Andes of Peru;
Chivay is at 3,600 metres above sea level, and the rim of the canyon at a similar height.

Whether coming from Arequipa to the south, or from Puno (on Lake Titcaca) to the east, you will see some spectacular Andean scenery, especially when you reach the highest point of the road at Abra Patapampa (abra is a pass). This is seriously high by most standards; at the lookout you are at 4,900 metres above sea level, and even the few steps up to the viewing platform can provide a challenge.

Part of the remarkable vista from Abra Patapampa, looking west.
From the left the volcanoes are Ampato (6300m), Sabancayo (6000m) and Hualca Hualca (6000m).
Some of the cloud is actually volcanic smoke.

Looking back to the east; this is a tough forbidding landscape, formed from volcanic eruptions and mountain uplift.

From here the road descends, but not to anything reminiscent of lowlands! East of Chivay, above the valley, we pass through high swampy plains, bofedales, rich in wildlife, especially waterbirds. The next few photographs were taken from the roadside.

Crested Ducks Lophonetta specularioides; these are old South Americans, the only one of their genus,
lovers of the cold windy expanses of the Andes and Patagonia.

Puna Teal Anas puna, another high Andes specialist.

Yellow-billed Teal Anas flavirostris; this little duck is widespread in the southern part of the continent,
and north up the Andean chain. (Formerly lumped with the Andean Teal, from further north, as Speckled Teal.)

Two other birds of the bofedales are also Andean specialists, with the range centred on southern Peru.
This is the Puna Ibis Plegadis ridgwayi.

Giant Coot Fulica gigantea. To those of us used to fairly diminutive coots, this magnificent bird is a real
eye-opener. 60cm long and weighing up to 2.5kg, the adult can scarcely fly. It rarely deigns to descend below
3,600 metres, and can be found in lakes and swamps up to 6,000 metres above sea level.

Alpacas grazing in the bofedales near Chivay.

The Colca Valley around Chivay has been a human-utilised landscape for thousands of years. Over the last thousand or so years it has been the scene of intensive agriculture, with terracing and irrigation for growing corn, potatoes, quinoa and beans, as well as grazing flocks of Llamas and Alpacas. While the Incas generally get the credit for Andean culture and technology, much of it actually predated them.

Pre-Inca terraces in the Colac Vally in front of Chivay (at the foot of the range in the middle distance);
Volcao Misanti can just be seen on the skyline to the right of it.
In the foreground is the gorge of the river still far from its downstream depth.

Black Metaltail Metallura phoebe on Opuntia Cactus.
Mostly it looks all-black, until light catches the startling throat iridescence.
This magnificent Andean hummingbird was in a garden on the outskirts of Chivay, as
was the subject of the next photo.

Black-throated Flowerpiercer Diglossa brunneiventris.This group of specialised tanagers, as the name and awl-shaped bill suggest, make a living by piercing
the base of flower tubes and stealing the nectar without achieving pollination.

Downstream of Chivay the valley becomes drier, with very different vegetation and wildlife. Bromeliads and cactus become dominants.

Airplants, Tillandsia sp., bromeliads, growing on the road cuttings in no soil at all.

Puya sp, another bromeliad, west of Chivay.
Many Puya species die after flowering, but it seems this is one of the lucky ones.

Cushion Plants Azorella sp. (family Apiaceae), west of Chivay.
These are hard to the touch and immensely hardy; mounds this big could be centuries old.
Curiously, the genus is also found in New Zealand and in Southern Ocean islands to its south.

Canyon Canastero Asthenes pudibunda. The resemblance, in appearance, habitat and behaviour, to
Australian grasswrens is striking, though it is entirely unrelated, being one of the ovenbirds (family Funariidae),
the ancient South American sub-oscine passerines.

Andean Flicker Colaptes rupicola, a large, vocal and almost entirely ground-dwelling woodpecker.

Which brings us to the canyon itself, or at least the section of it with lookouts and walking tracks high above the river (though only a modest 1,200 metres above it here at Cruz del Condor).

Lookout, shelter and walking tracks above Colca Canyon at Cruz del Condor.

 It is a very striking landscape.

Colca Canyon, above and below; while nowhere near the 3,400 metres of the deepest
part of the canyon, the river is 1.2km vertically below us.

Cactus predominates here, and I'm a big fan of cactus in its natural environment (ie not in rockeries or the Australian bush, but that's just me). I hope you don't find this a cactus surfeit; sadly my enthusiasm isn't matched by taxonomic knowledge so any identification assistance will be gladly received.

Puyas are here too, adding to what is a pretty exotic-seeming landscape to those such as I, entirely unfamiliar with it.

Puya sp. above Colca Canyon.

Not all the flowers belong to cactus or bromeliads.

Calceolaria sp. growing from a rock crevice above Colca Canyon.

Cantuta Cantua buxifolia Family Polemoniaceae, above and below.
This is a pretty appropriate place to encounter Peru's national flower!

 

And of course there are birds, even in the cactuses.

Black-winged Ground Dove Metriopelia melanoptera.

Slender-billed Miner Geositta tenuirostris.This is another of the ovenbirds; as suggested by their name, the miners nest in burrows.

Ash-breasted Sierra-finch Phrygilus plebejus.As with so many South American birds, the sierra-finches turn out to be tanagers.

Tabanid Fly, known as March flies in Australia, horse flies in some other places.
Fortunately (for me, not her) this beauty was unable to get that proboscis through my trouser leg.

However none of these beautiful beasts are what draw most people to Colca Canyon. This is about the only place in Peru where one still has a reasonable chance of seeing the magnificent and huge Andean Condor Vultur gryphus, which has largely gone from most of its formerly vast Andean range, except in Patagonia in the far south. They roost on ledges down in the canyon, but as the air heats up in the morning sun they ride the thermals up until, if we are lucky, they can be seen at eye level. And on that morning we were very lucky, with 17 appearing, many more than an average morning.

To see one condor is a rare privilege; to see them in groups like this is utterly thrilling.

Adult above, and immature below.

Adult females, photos above and below; they lack the male's red facial skin.

This is a wonderful wildlife spectacle, which we watched for a long time before the condors scattered and we walked off into the warming day to enjoy all the other treats that Colca has to offer. When you're in Peru - and I do hope it's on your agenda - please be sure not to miss this beautiful and very exciting valley.

BACK ON THURSDAY

On This Day 8 April 200 years ago: Charles Fraser arrived

There are a lot of what we might consider the basics that we don't know about Charles Fraser, though we do know that he arrived in Sydney on 8 April 1816 and went on to contribute much to our knowledge of botany across most of the then-known parts of the continent in the relatively few years that he had left. 

We don't know for sure when he was born in Blair Atholl, Perthshire, Scotland, though "1788(?)" is usually cited for no apparent reason. (Some more recent work by Tim Crampton produces circumstantial, though fairly compelling, evidence that he was born in 1791.) Even his name is a bit shadowy; the Australian Dictionary of Biography calls him Frazer, as do newspaper obituaries of the time. However his gravestone (in St John's Anglican Cemetery in Parramatta) apparently says Fraser, and that is the spelling of the many plant names dedicated to him, and apparently in early records of the Sydney Botanic Gardens. If Crampton's Blair Atholl research does refer to Charles, then 'Fraser' is correct. (Surveyor-General John Oxley, with whom Fraser travelled on three occasions, hedged his bets by referring to him as 'Fraser', 'Frazer' and 'Frazier' in his published journal of the expeditions!)

Dwarf Lantern Flower Abutilon fraseri, Family Malvaceae, central Australia.
Like much relating to Fraser, it is not totally certainly that Sir William Hooker of Kew Gardens named this
widespread plant for Charles (as was common at the time, he didn't specify) but given that he
named it from a specimen collected by Fraser on the Moreton River, I think it's a pretty safe bet.

He arrived as a soldier, a private, but somehow his horticultural or botanical skills (supposedly picked up while working as a gardener in Scotland, both on estates and at major botanic gardens, especially in Edinburgh) were rapidly recognised and valued by the shrewd and liberal Governor Macquarie, and he seems to have undertaken very little guard duty or parade ground drilling. There is circumstantial evidence that he was given almost immediately a supervisory role at the nascent 'government gardens' at Farm Cove, though the first record we have of him being officially in the role is from 1823. 

He did however accompany Oxley on expeditions to inland NSW in 1817, 1818 and 1819 and made major collections of specimens and seeds, including hundreds of new species. Oxley referred to him as the 'colonial botanist' and 'government collector' but it seems these were not formal titles. Allan Cunningham, the 'King's Botanist' accompanied the first of these expeditions, along the Lachlan River, and Fraser worked with him. By next year however Cunningham was sailing round Australia and Fraser was trusted to work as the sole botanist on Oxley's New England and Hastings River expeditions of 1818 and 1819.

He accompanied Commissioner Bigge on his journeys of enquiry into the state of agriculture and trade to Tasmania (then still Van Diemen's Land) and the interior of New South Wales in 1820. 

In 1821 he was formally appointed Colonial Botanist by Governor Macquarie, and soon after persuaded the governor to open a new and larger six hectare gardens at Double Bay; it was the Farm Cove site however which flourished, initially as a food garden, and later as the official Sydney Botanic Gardens, as they are today. (Governor Brisbane, who replaced Macquarie soon afterwards, didn't support the Double Bay site and they languished.) He didn't spend a lot of time in the gardens, but they benefited greatly from his extensive plant collecting. He visited New Zealand (briefly) and Norfolk Island, and returned to Van Diemen's Land. 

Yellow Kapok Cochlospermum fraseri Family Bixaceae, Litchfield NP, south-west of Darwin.
This tree, found across the tropical Top End and Kimberley, was named by Frenchman Jules Planchon
to honour Fraser 16 years after his death.

In 1827 he went with James Stirling to the Swan River; his support of Stirling's enthusiasm for the site led eventually to the establishment of the Swan River Colony, which was to become Perth. (Unfortunately the rich alluvial riverside soils he praised soon change to low-fertility sands away from the river, and he didn't go that far. Later settlers were not at all happy with him.) In 1828 he travelled again with Allan Cunningham, this time to Moreton Bay where they worked on laying out a botanic gardens for Brisbane; Commandant Patrick Logan unfortunately had no interest in it beyond a vegetable garden and much of their work was wasted. 

Fraser's work, which also included experimentation on eucalyptus oil and growing cotton, was valued highly in Sydney however, and by 1829 he was being paid £200 a year, plus a grant of £150 for past expenses. Sadly he didn't live long to enjoy the benefits. In 1831 he was taken ill while returning from Bathurst with cartloads of live plants, and died in Parramatta of 'apoplexy' - a stroke.

Hakea fraseri Tregole National Park, central southern Queensland.
This tree was named by the great Scot Robert Brown, shortly before Fraser's death.
However, it seems likely now that true Hakea fraseri is limited to a small area of New England in NSW, and that
the Queensland populations are better included in H. lorea.
Never mind, at the time I took the picture both I and the Queensland Parks Service thought it was Fraser's tree,
and they might change their minds again...

The obituaries and tributes were generous; the Sydney Monitor spoke of "the urbanity of his manners, and his universal and unremitting benevolence", as well his achievements. They singled out in particular "the roads and walks of the Domain, the last work of his planning". The Colonial Times of Hobart however, perhaps being a little further from the action, felt freer to make a couple of other interesting observations, while being also unstinting in its praise of his accomplishments. For instance "his talents threw him continually into every variety of company, of which he was usually the convivial and agreeable companion. Paradoxical as it may seem, yet it is the way of the world - for a man having such numberless acquaintances as he, perhaps none had in proportion fewer friends." This seems a curious comment - it would be hard to imagine a modern obituary remarking on someone's lack of friends. And perhaps illuminatingly with regard to his early death (at somewhere between 40 and 43, depending on which version of his birth year we accept): "Naturally of a plethoric habit, his convivial disposition probably contributed not a little to induce the apoplectic attack...". Plethoric is a medical term for unnaturally red-faced; as a non-medical person it seems to me this could refer to high blood pressure, though the reference to his 'convivial disposition' does appear to imply a fondness for imbibing. 

We don't know the truth of that (as is so often the case with matters relating to Fraser), and it's none of our business really. Few would know his name now, but he contributed quite a bit to the early knowledge of Australian plants, and especially in introducing them to the public via the botanic gardens. All who have strolled in the Sydney Botanic Gardens and the Domain are in his debt and it doesn't hurt us to acknowledge that. 

Burra Eremophila fraseri, family Scrophulariaceae (though traditionally included in Myoporaceae)
Mount Magnet, inland Western Australia.
I had already included this photo, based on what turns out to be a long-standing misconception on my part.
I now learn that it was not named by Ferdinand von Müller for Charles Fraser, but for Sir Malcolm Fraser
(again, not the recent Prime Minister, but a 19th Western Australian surveyor-general).
However it's a lovely flower and I've put it outside of the actual article; do I get away with that?

BACK ON THURSDAY