expedition that after a year of
abundant rains, on the Colorado
desert was found a
specimen of Amaranthus ten feet high. A year
later the same
species in the same place matured in the
drought at
four inches. One hopes the land may breed like qualities in her
human offspring, not tritely to "try," but to do. Seldom does the
desert herb
attain the full
stature of the type. Extreme aridity
and
extremealtitude have the same dwarfing effect, so that we find
in the high Sierras and in Death Valley
relatedspecies in
miniature that reach a
comely growth in mean temperatures.
Very
fertile are the desert plants in expedients to prevent
evaporation, turning their
foliage edge-wise toward the sun,
growing silky hairs, exuding viscid gum. The wind, which has a
long sweep, harries and helps them. It rolls up dunes about the
stocky stems, encompassing and
protective, and above the dunes,
which may be, as with the mesquite, three times as high as a man,
the blossoming twigs
flourish and bear fruit.
There are many areas in the desert where drinkable water lies
within a few feet of the surface, indicated by the mesquite and the
bunch grass (Sporobolus airoides). It is this nearness of
unimagined help that makes the
tragedy of desert deaths. It is
related that the final
breakdown of that
hapless party that gave
Death Valley its forbidding name occurred in a
locality where
shallow wells would have saved them. But how were they to know
that? Properly equipped it is possible to go
safely across that
ghastly sink, yet every year it takes its toll of death, and yet
men find there sun-dried mummies, of whom no trace or recollection
is preserved. To underestimate one's
thirst, to pass a given
landmark to the right or left, to find a dry spring where one
looked for
running water--there is no help for any of these things.
Along springs and
sunken watercourses one is surprised to find
such water-loving plants as grow widely in moist ground, but the
true desert breeds its own kind, each in its particular habitat.
The angle of the slope, the frontage of a hill, the structure
of the soil determines the plant. South-looking hills are nearly
bare, and the lower tree-line higher here by a thousand feet.
Canons
running east and west will have one wall naked and one
clothed. Around dry lakes and marshes the herbage preserves a set
and
orderlyarrangement. Most
species have well-defined areas of
growth, the best index the voiceless land can give the traveler
of his whereabouts.
If you have any doubt about it, know that the desert begins
with the creosote. This
immortal shrub spreads down into Death
Valley and up to the lower timberline, odorous and medicinal as
you might guess from the name, wandlike, with shining fretted
foliage. Its vivid green is
grateful to the eye in a
wilderness of
gray and
greenish white shrubs. In the spring it exudes a resinous
gum which the Indians of those parts know how to use with
pulverized rock for cementing arrow points to shafts. Trust
Indians not to miss any virtues of the plant world!
Nothing the desert produces expresses it better than the
unhappy growth of the tree yuccas. Tormented, thin forests of it
stalk drearily in the high mesas, particularly in that triangular
slip that fans out
eastward from the meeting of the Sierras and
coastwise hills where the first swings across the southern end of
the San Joaquin Valley. The yucca bristles with bayonet-pointed
leaves, dull green, growing
shaggy with age, tipped with
panicles of fetid,
greenish bloom. After death, which is slow,
the
ghostly hollow
network of its woody
skeleton, with hardly power
to rot, makes the
moonlightfearful. Before the yucca has come to
flower, while yet its bloom is a
creamy cone-shaped bud of the size
of a small
cabbage, full of sugary sap, the Indians twist it deftly
out of its fence of daggers and roast it for their own delectation.
So it is that in those parts where man
inhabits one sees young
plants of Yucca arborensis infrequently. Other yuccas,
cacti, low herbs, a thousand sorts, one finds journeying east from
the coastwise hills. There is neither
poverty of soil nor
speciesto
account for the sparseness of desert growth, but simply that
each plant requires more room. So much earth must be preempted to
extract so much
moisture. The real struggle for
existence, the
real brain of the plant, is
underground; above there is room for
a rounded perfect growth. In Death Valley, reputed the very core
of
desolation, are nearly two hundred identified
species.
Above the lower tree-line, which is also the snowline, mapped
out
abruptly by the sun, one finds spreading growth of pinon,
juniper, branched nearly to the ground, lilac and sage, and