Back in the late 1990s and early 2000s, whenever I had a (rare) day free from teaching, marking, supervision, meetings, writing, and other university commitments, I would hop on the train from Northampton to London. My destination was the Spirit Collection of the Herbarium at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, where bottled flowers are preserved in their three-dimensional complexity, rather than squashed flat onto herbarium sheets. To this day, the smell of formaldehyde in the “Kew Mix” takes me back to the chilly basement space of that collection.
The Kew Herbarium is a massive, internationally important resource for taxonomy, evolutionary biology and ecology, and one which ought to stay where it is, in my opinion.
The purpose of my visits was to exploit the large number of Ceropegia specimens that had been collected by botanists working in Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. These amazing flowers are so complex that they are best preserved in spirit, and that complexity in turn is a function of their sophisticated pollination systems. The flowers temporarily trap their pollinators, releasing them unharmed after a period, during which they will have picked up pollen and/or the flower will have been pollinated. If you have ever grown String-of-Hearts as a house plant, that’s the group we are talking about.
The botanists who collected these flowers were, of course, only interested in the plants. But as well as pickling the blooms they sometimes pickled the insect contents of the flowers, giving us a record of what the flowers were luring into their temporary traps. Not only that, but Ceropegia belongs to the milkweed subfamily of Apocynaceae, which means that their pollen is in the form of pollinia. These are coherent packages of pollen that mechanically, and persistently, clip to the insect. This gives us an opportunity to sort out the real pollinators (with pollinia attached) from other insects that may be inside the flowers for other reasons, such as looking for prey or sheltering from the dry heat of the day.
It had occurred to me that if someone was to check these flowers for insects, and extract any that were found, then we could build up an unprecedentedly complete picture of the diversity of pollinators in a large, mainly tropical plant genus of around 200 species. So that’s what I did, whenever time allowed. Having gained permission to do this, I was pleased to discover that the process was considerably speeded up by the fact that preserving the flowers in this way clears the tissues, making them colourless and translucent. By shining a bench light through the bottles I could see which flowers contained insects and carefully dissect them out.
Most flowers were empty, but occasional visits over a period of a few years resulted in a data set of flower visitors and pollinators for about 60 species and subspecies of Ceropegia. The first paper from that work was published in 2008 in Annals of Botany as ‘Fly pollination in Ceropegia (Apocynaceae: Asclepiadoideae): biogeographic and phylogenetic perspectives‘. Later work by colleagues and myself meant that in 2017 we could publish an update in the journal Flora (Diversity of Diptera families that pollinate Ceropegia (Apocynaceae) trap flowers: An update in light of new data and phylogenetic analyses).
The work also fed into our large study of pollination systems in Apocynaceae and I even published a small note about an ant specimen that I had extracted which still had the evidence of its last meal (a fly’s wing) protruding from its mouth.
The work at Kew had given us a short cut to understanding how pollination systems have evolved in this big plant species radiation. The equivalent field work required to collect the same data would have taken many person years and no funding agency would have given it the time of day. Not only that, but a portion of the data is from parts of the word that are war-torn, dangerous, and largely inaccessible to field scientists at the moment. Which brings us to the present paper.
All of the pollinators, and most of the flower visitors, to Ceropegia that have been discovered to date are small flies (Diptera) often only a couple of millimetres in length. There are relatively few taxonomists who can identify such flies and most of the specimens I extracted were identified to genus or family by Andrew Whittington. One such specimen was determined to be a species of Lygistorrhina, known as ‘long-beaked fungus gnats‘. It was found in a flower of Ceropegia aristolochioides ssp. deflersiana, which is something of a generalist in this genus of specialists: it’s pollinated by at least four fly genera and 11 others have been collected from its flowers sans pollinia, including this one.
The flower was collected in 1975 by botanist John Wood, in Yemen – like I said, inaccessible – and the semi-arid climate in which it was found, whilst typical for Ceropegia, is unusual for Lygistorrhina. When National Museums Scotland entomologist Vladimir Blagoderov looked at the specimen he quickly realised that it was a new species and contacted Andrew and myself to discuss describing it. The paper documenting the new species, which we have named Lygistorrhina woodi in John’s honour, was published today. Here’s the reference with a link to the paper, which is open access:
Here’s the abstract:
A new species of Lygistorrhina (Lygistorrhina) Skuse, 1890, Lygistorrhina woodi sp. nov., is described. The specimen was dissected from an alcohol-preserved flower of Ceropegia aristolochioides ssp. deflersiana Bruyns (Apocynaceae, Asclepiadoideae, Ceropegieae) stored in the Kew herbarium. This is the first occurrence of the lygistorrhine gnats in a hot, semi-arid climate. A key to all known species of the subgenus Lygistorrhina (Lygistorrhina) is provided.
Prof. Jeff Ollerton - ecological scientist and author 