SCHOOL IN THE OPEN.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 19060, 3 May 1930, Page 17 (Supplement)

SCHOOL IN THE OPEN.

Studies in the Great Out-of-Doors.

(Bj

J. J. S. Comes, 8.A., B.Sc.)

The “Star” has arranged with Mr J, J. S. Comes, 8.A., B.Sc., to write a series of illustrated articles which will give teachers and others a fuller appreciation of the Great Out-of-Doors. They will deal with various aspects of plant and animal life, as well as with inanimate nature. Questions and material for identification will be welcomed.

SCATTERING SEEDS AND WITHERING LEAVES. CCLX. While man is harvesting, nature is scattering seeds. On a genial autumn day the pods of gorse may be heard bursting; rough-coated seed-boxes adhere to furry animals and fall off by the way; others, like dandelion-down and thistle-down, or the plumose nutlets of clematis, are wafted about by the wind. Some birds digest the seeds they eat, but many fruit-eating birds pass out the seeds undigested and none the worse for their sojourn in the foodcanal. There are many other methods of scattering—thus pea-nut and subterranean clover poke their pods into the earth and sow their seeds also. This seed-scattering in autumn impresses us with the abundance of life—but the other side of the picture is the abundance of death. Tennyson wrote of the prodigality of Nature “ Of fifty seeds, she often brings but one to bear’.’ —and he might have written “ myriad” for “ fifty.” Darwin noted that the common spotted orchis may have 30 seed boxes, each with 6200 seeds. Allowing (say) 400 bad seeds to each box, there still remain 174,000 good seeds from each plant. These would cover an acre;

their grand-children would cover thej island of Anglesey; and their greatgrandchildren the whole land-surface of the globe. But such things do not happen ; the chances against the success of the seeds are so great; “some fell by the wayside, some fell on stony ground,” as the immortal parable says. There is enormous mortality and apparent waste—but part at least of the elimination is not chance, but discriminate, and this winnowing and sifting in favour of the “best." which we calLNatural

Selection, is one of the secrets of progress. Withering Leaves, All through the summer the green leaves have been the scene of intense activity, but this wanes in autumn, and they wither. They have begun to suffer from the wear and tear of living; the furnishings of the cell laboratories are becoming worn. Moreover, it is well that the leaves should die, reducing the exposed surface from which water is given off, for as the soil gets colder it becomes more difficult for the roots to keep up the supply. But before the leaves fall off they surrender all their useful material to the plant that bore them. There is a passage of sugar, green material and more complex materials—even living matter itself—into stem and root. There is nothing left in the light, withered leaves that rustle along the ground but ashes —and beauty. When the chlorophyll recedes it leaves behind it yellow grains and the tree is crowned with gold. But often there appear special waste pigments, such as anthoryan (as occurs also in ripening fruits, in flowers, in red cabbage and in beetroot), which gives to the leaves of the pear, the oak, the beech and the Virginia creeper their fiery autumnal splendour. Meanwhile in various ways a weak line is established at the base of the leaf-stalk, where it joins the twig. To the inside

of this a corky partition grows across, ’which helps in the actual separation, and forms a protective scar—fine surgery this, where the wound is healed before it is made. Then comes the windy day when the leaves fall in thousands—to enrich the earth with humus, as in life they enriched the tree with their labour, and even in dying covered it with glory. (To be continued next Saturday.)