Curiosities in nature can come in many forms.  Some are just plain freakish and others are just everyday wonderful.  In reviewing some information about Victorian taxidermy (don’t ask me why I was looking into such an obscure subject) I was faced with an image of an eight legged, three tailed stuffed kitten. The odd little thing was mounted nearly 150 years ago with seven full legs in standing position and at least two of the tails and the eighth leg sticking out of the back. I’m sure the original mount has long since crumbled into dust, but the ancient photo of it gives it an even “curiouser” appearance.  On the other hand, normal live kittens (and this coming from a dog person) are disgustingly adorable and fall into the category of an “everyday wonderful” type curiosity.

  When compared to the Octokitty, the freakish curiosity I offer as a fresh example is pretty tame – how about a two headed maple leaf.  I’m talking not one, but two! Yes, as shocking as it sounds, there is a red maple tree out there that is shedding leaves consisting of two leaf blades joined by a common stem (take a look here at this shocking revelation).  You can supply the Psycho music when this image pops up on your screen.  I’ve nothing to say about these things except to acknowledge that trees are frequently subject to random mutations.  These changes can be induced naturally by the sun’s radiation and don’t necessarily mean a pollution related effect. Apple varieties, of which there used to be hundreds, were originally induced by such random mutations. 

  The fact that there are dozens of these two faced leaves indicates that there is a whole freak branch up there promoting petiole partnering. Nature generally frowns on this kind of experimentation unless it produces some kind of benefit.  Maybe, just maybe, we are witness to the very beginnings of a successful biological adaptation that will lead to a whole host of stem sharing plants millions of years from now. Realistically, this trend won’t last any longer than a two headed calf.

    Now, in the category of a plain wonderful curiosity, I offer the fruit of Magnolia grandiflora.  When wandering about a city park on Roanoke Island, North Carolina this past September I came upon a beautiful specimen of a Southern Magnolia tree. This pyramidal shaped evergreen only grows in the warm coastal plain region from the Carolinas south to Florida to the Gulf States. Also known as the Bullbay tree, it is the official state tree of Louisiana.  The large leathery leaves and huge blooms are incredible enough, but I was fascinated by the bizarre fruit pods.  Take a look here at the freshly picked pod I borrowed from the tree.  This big (kitten sized) fuzzy thing was unlike anything this northern boy had ever seen.  I was going to make a sketch of it, but time and waning natural light forced me to resort to photographing it instead. 

  The fruit ended up coming home with us when we returned to Michigan, along with a whole box full of pine cones, nuts, crab shells, a preserved rattlesnake, and some unidentifiable shriveled thing.  I forgot about the magnolia pod for a few weeks and was delighted, upon rediscovery, to find it had gone to seed.  Technically this type of fruit is considered an aggregate of follicles or a burr made up of many small carpels which split to exude fleshy drupes.  Non-technically, each scale splits open and pushes out a bean sized Christmas -red seed.  These seeds, each about ½ inch long, are bright scarlet and shiny. They remain attached to the pod by a weak silky thread, so they hang out and angle slightly down. Take a look at this amazing fruit as it looked a week ago.

  Here is a true curiosity – an everyday thing that deserves a closer look.  In their native haunts, opossums, squirrels, and turkeys feast on these seeds with little appreciation for their beauty. A Native human Carolinian, Floridian, or Louisianan probably wouldn’t gawk at this thing like we might.  They are, after all, used to it.  I’ll bet there are a lot of ‘em, however, that don’t pay no nevermind to such things. 

  Be they bizarre or benign, curiosities should spark our curiosity no matter where we are from.