'The effects of insect exclusion on pitcher plant microbial communities'

Driving down various unmarked dirt roads for almost 2 hours, memory fails as I search for the hidden Tom’s Swamp. Finally, google earth and a country club landmark help, and the bog is found. Drizzle falls but thankfully no rain. My assistant and I lug heavy planks and equipment while balancing fretfully on a thin wooden walkway. We make it to the spot, and use our “portable boardwalk” to venture into unknown bog… One plank precariously holds our weight while the other is pried from the muck and wielded into a new location. Move, repeat. We place our 60 red flags and take notes on appropriate carnivorous pitcher plants. 1 good pitcher, not yet open, is on that plant, 2 here.

My foot, the plank that saves me, a pitcher plant

The next day the sun is out and I am alone. I manage to carry out both planks, winding the makeshift handles over my shoulders, carrying my equipment bag underneath, fighting the vegetation that grows over the narrow path. At multiple points I can’t see where to step, and once I fall as my foot misses its slippery goal and descends into darkness over the ankle. Sluuuuurrp. But my rainboots are tough, and feet stay dry.

Leo in bog

A wasp-mimicking hover fly meets its end

Out at the site, everything is vibrant. Brilliant green sphagnum moss, yellow water lilies, the red veins of pitcher plants. When I squat close to the ground, I see more different insects together than ever before. Beetles, butterflies, ants, mosquitoes and other flies of all kinds; lovely mimics and unusual colors. Sundews vie with Sarracenia purpurea pitchers for insect meals, using their sticky sweet tentacles. Bog laurel flaunts perfect geometric pink flowers, springloaded to fling pollen if bumped.

Bog laurel

A carabid beetle on sphagnum moss narrowly escapes carnivorous sundew

Fly finds housing in water lily

I squat delicately at the end of my plank and cover pitchers with green gauze bags, securing them with zip ties. Four treatments, four colors. This one needs to be gently opened, and fed sterilized ground up wasp meal. That one needs a bag that is left open to insect access. Over there the pitcher has no bag at all. Controls and potential issues. Has this plant flowered? Check. Oops, don’t put my weight all at one edge or I’ll be seesawed into the bog. The swampy surface looks quite solid, but very quickly one realizes that the top layer is a thin mask, and a foot can easily break through it, leaving the attached body waist-deep in slurpy slimy muck. Planks spread my weight, and the protective layer holds.

My experiment

Pitcher plant flower

Five hours of squatting in the sunny, shadeless bog leaves me sore, sweaty, and covered in bites. At least there are no leeches. Just endless blue sky and white puffy clouds.

Tom's Swamp