As I sit here on a blustery January day, avoiding doing all of the things that REALLY should be done, I look out the window. What do I see? Spanish moss, hanging from the bald cypress tree out front…. Spanish moss, billowing in the wind …. Spanish moss … what exactly is this plant? My chores will just have to wait.
Spanish moss (Tillandsia usneoides) is a native perennial herb that grows on trees. It is neither Spanish nor is it a moss. It is a species of the Bromeliad family, which includes the pineapple and many of the potted plants found in homes and offices. It is classified as an epiphyte, which is a plant that grows on the surface of another plant. It has no roots. Contrary to popular belief, it takes nothing from the plant that it grows on. It does not kill trees. Rather, it has scales (called trichomes) along its body that collect and store water from rain and fog, and nutrients from the atmosphere. Much of these come from the dead cells that are continually shed from trees, along with other dust and debris floating around in the atmosphere. Atmospheric debris and sunlight: that is all it needs to live.
So how did the myth start that Spanish moss damages or kills trees? Here is a theory. Because older trees tend to shed more dead cells than young trees, and with dying trees shedding even more, these trees provide a more nutrient-rich atmosphere for an epiphyte than younger trees. It’s not that the Spanish moss causes trees to be old or die; the epiphyte is merely thriving in favorable conditions.
I was surprised to learn that Spanish moss is an actual flowering plant — just like any other bromeliad. (I’ll have to be more observant.) In springtime, its inconspicuous yellow-to-green blossoms appear, lasting around four days. On warm, humid evenings, you may be able to smell their delicate fragrance. The resulting seeds have feathery appendages, somewhat resembling those of the dandelion. Those seeds are released into the wind to float around and hopefully land into a tree with suitable habitat, where they will grow and flourish. Most likely, though, Spanish moss will spread through “festoons.” These are broken-off pieces of the original plant that are spread around by animals or the wind and readily grow in their new locations.
Spanish moss is native to the tropical and subtropical regions of South America, Central America, Mexico, and the southeastern US. When French colonizers first arrived in what is now the southern US, they asked “What is this?”
Indigenous peoples told them it was Itla-okla (tree hair). The French colonists renamed it barbe espagnol, or Spanish beard, because it reminded them of the long beards of the Spanish explorers. Spanish colonists, in turn, renamed it cabello francais, or French hair. As time passed, the “Spanish” part of the name stuck, but the “beard” part transitioned to “moss.”
How has this plant figured into human history? Well, Native Americans of the southeast, including the Natchez and the Seminoles, would gather large quantities and soak it in shallow bodies of water until the outer layer of the strands rotted away, leaving behind the tough black inner fibers of the plant. Those fibers were used to make a coarse fabric for blankets, clothing and floor mats. The fibers were also twisted into rope and cords for making fishing nets and lashing poles together for housing structures.
Closer to home and, as the crow flies, only about 30 minutes from downtown Aiken, is Stallings Island, a site where Spanish moss was used in pottery-making some 4,000-5,000 years ago. Located in the middle of the Savannah River above Augusta, Georgia, Stallings Island is said to be home to the earliest pottery sherds in North America.
Utilitarian uses of Spanish moss were not limited to ancient cultures. These uses continued through the ages and into the mid-20th century. In addition to its uses in bedding, weaving and rope-making, it has been used as a building material for insulation from the cold and as a useful additive to mud chinking to fill in the gaps of log cabins and other structures. More recently (well, still centuries ago), Spanish moss was used as a filler and stuffing for pillows and mattresses. Moths are not attracted to it. Called “vegetable horsehair,” it gained favor over wool in furniture upholstery. In the mid-19th century, it was woven to make horse blankets and pads. Contemporary artisans and weavers have helped revive the demand for horse blankets and other goods woven from Spanish moss.
In the early 20th century, South Carolina had several moss gins. At the time, it sure was hard to beat a cool and comfy Spanish moss-stuffed mattress on a sultry, summer night. Believe it or not, a rudimentary air conditioner was once made from fanning air through a mesh of moist Spanish moss, cooling the air. Automaker Henry Ford used it as a filler in the seats and headliners of his Model T in the early 20th century.
Medicinally, a tea was made from it to be used for chills and fever. The plant does contain inulin, which has shown some promise, combined with other agents, in diabetes treatment. Some people enjoy keeping Spanish moss indoors (google it for images). Articles abound on indoor care and culture, and plant makes for an easy houseguest.
Spanish moss fits nicely into the natural world. Many birds and animals utilize its fibers– bald eagles, ospreys, owls, hawks and many others use it to cushion and insulate their nests. Northern parula warblers build their nests directly in the moss. Several species of bat roost in it, as well. Examine a mass of it and you may find any number of animals using it for shelter– tree frogs, snakes and lizards to name a few. One jumping spider (Pelegrina tillandsia) occurs only in Spanish moss. The one organism that you WILL NOT find there is the chigger. This fact has been confirmed in many entomological studies. The idea that Spanish moss stored on the ground gathers chiggers also appears to be the stuff of myth.
Though it can grow on almost any surface, including fences and power lines, Spanish moss seems to grow best on oak and cypress trees. As I was driving around my hometown of Aiken yesterday, I could find no instances of it growing on oaks, cypresses, or any other trees. Aiken is included in its native range. Local gardeners increasingly incorporate palmetto trees and other coastal-region plantings to their landscapes … why not Spanish moss? I will meditate on that thought as I watch mine wafting in the January breeze.
Contributor Jeff Dexter became an accidental naturalist during his earliest childhood days exploring the dirt roads, backyards, polo field and barns of the Magnolia-Knox-Mead neighborhood of 1950s Aiken. Birds are his first love, and he can identify an impressive range by song alone. He asserts that he is an observer, not an expert, on the topics of his writings, which range from birds, box turtles, frogs and foraging, to wasps, weeds, weather and beyond.
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