Magnolia trees are so old they coexisted with dinosaurs.
Life as we know it today is less the result of a steady evolutionary flow than a series of cataclysmic fits and starts. To date, the Earth has experienced five mass extinctions, a variety of ice ages, and other climatic changes that have had huge impacts on plant and animal life, often wiping the terrestrial slate clean. However, a few incredible survivors live among us — including magnolias. Named for the 17th-century French botanist Pierre Magnol, the history of these trees far surpasses the ancien régime. In fact, it’s estimated that magnolias first sprouted on Earth 95 million years ago — smack dab in the middle of the Cretaceous Period. That’s about 27 million years before Tyrannosaurus rex roamed the Earth.
Back here in the Holocene (the current geological epoch), the magnolia family’s native ranges can be found in East and Southeast Asia and the southern U.S., as well as Mexico, northern South America, and the Caribbean. Although a modern favorite among plant lovers, magnolias still sport evidence of their ancient upbringing. Because they are so old, they evolved to be pollinated by beetles and flies instead of bees, butterflies, or moths. That’s because back in the Cretaceous, those other pollinators didn’t exist yet. Magnolias have tough carpels (the female parts of the flower) to protect themselves from a beetle’s less-than-graceful mandibles, and invest more energy in producing showy, nectar-filled, sweet-smelling flowers in an effort to attract these insects. The beautiful magnolia tree and the flightless beetle may seem like an odd couple, but it’s a relationship that has worked since the Mesozoic.
In 1895, British botanist John Medley Wood was exploring the Ngoya Forest on the coast of South Africa when he came across an ancient-looking tree. Although he didn’t know it at the time, this particular cycad (now called Encephalartos woodii in his honor) was the only specimen left in existence. Some 250 million years ago, at the dawn of the Triassic, cycads — including Encephalartos woodii — dominated the globe. This particular species survived the explosive asteroid impact that likely snuffed out land-based dinosaurs, and a half-dozen or so ice ages, until only one solitary male specimen was left. That specimen is believed to have died in 1964, although basal offsets of the stem (essentially clones of the original cycad) can be found in botanical gardens around the globe. Alas, Encephalartos woodii needs a female in order to produce naturally, and several expeditions to find a plant partner have failed. Scientists are now trying to create a close approximation of a female woodii by mating the plant with a close cycad cousin (Encephalartos natalensis). With a little bit of luck, maybe one day the world’s loneliest tree will find love again.
