They Hunt In Packs

Day 267: Warning: you are going to see several days of Sundew posts. It's been a year and a half since I had a chance to visit my "kids," and if I can put up with your offspring/pet posts, it's only fair that you can endure these. Besides, they are just SO CUTE! Each one displays something unique, its "personality," if you will, but don't be deceived by appearances. These creatures hunt in packs, albeit non-mobile ones.

Arnie recently sent me an article which described a different species of Drosera and its behaviour: D. makinoi, which is found in Japan. The researchers who studied it ran a statistical analysis to determine if closer-packed communities of plants captured more or less prey species, and the size of the prey they obtained. They found a correlation between plant density and larger captures which, if you think about it, makes perfect sense. They posited that D. makinoi's long, slender leaves helped multiple plants snag a shared meal. On the other hand, though, they found no such correlation with Drosera rotundifolia (Round-leaved Sundew), and that's a point with which I will take firm issue. I have seen too many damselflies captured in the tightly-packed rosettes of Lake St. Clair's Sundew colonies, and will argue that plant density most certainly does work as a hunting strategy, at least there. In fact, I think damselflies are the primary food source for the group I've dubbed "Jack's Lot," shown in the photo above. One damsel may find herself helpless in the clutches of four or five hungry little Droseras at once! And when there has been a hatch of damsels, the Droseras gorge.

In a sidebar, I am pleased to announce that I found a second population of rotundifolia on the lake. It was near where I first discovered the broken, floating remnants of a dock I called "Sundew Island." During the winter several years ago, Sundew Island went adrift. I was able to find pieces of it for a couple of years, but eventually, all traces of it disappeared. The new population occupies another bit of broken dock which may some day go wandering, but I'll be looking for it, wanting to keep an eye on my "kids," wherever they may roam.