Though plants have no brains, scientists have uncovered evidence that they do release chemicals that allow them to "communicate" with each other and animals. There is even evidence that plants can spread their messages over a vast region.
Photo by Julia Ivantsova via Shutterstock
Over at Quanta magazine, Kat McGowan has a fascinating article on the growing field of plant communication studies. Here's how she begins:
Up in the northern Sierra Nevada, the ecologist Richard Karban is trying to learn an alien language. The sagebrush plants that dot these slopes speak to one another, using words no human knows. Karban, who teaches at the University of California, Davis, is listening in, and he's beginning to understand what they say.
The evidence for plant communication is only a few decades old, but in that short time it has leapfrogged from electrifying discovery to decisive debunking to resurrection. Two studies published in 1983 demonstrated that willow trees, poplars and sugar maples can warn each other about insect attacks: Intact, undamaged trees near ones that are infested with hungry bugs begin pumping out bug-repelling chemicals to ward off attack. They somehow know what their neighbors are experiencing, and react to it. The mind-bending implication was that brainless trees could send, receive and interpret messages.
The first few "talking tree" papers quickly were shot down as statistically flawed or too artificial, irrelevant to the real-world war between plants and bugs. Research ground to a halt. But the science of plant communication is now staging a comeback. Rigorous, carefully controlled experiments are overcoming those early criticisms with repeated testing in labs, forests and fields. It's now well established that when bugs chew leaves, plants respond by releasing volatile organic compounds into the air. By Karban's last count, 40 out of 48 studies of plant communication confirm that other plants detect these airborne signals and ramp up their production of chemical weapons or other defense mechanisms in response. "The evidence that plants release volatiles when damaged by herbivores is as sure as something in science can be," said Martin Heil, an ecologist at the Mexican research institute Cinvestav Irapuato. "The evidence that plants can somehow perceive these volatiles and respond with a defense response is also very good."
Plant communication may still be a tiny field, but the people who study it are no longer seen as a lunatic fringe. "It used to be that people wouldn't even talk to you: 'Why are you wasting my time with something we've already debunked?'" said Karban. "That's now better for sure." The debate is no longer whether plants can sense one another's biochemical messages — they can — but about why and how they do it. Most studies have taken place under controlled lab conditions, so one of the major open questions is to what extent plants use these signals in the wild. The answer could have big implications: Farmers might be able to adapt this chatter, tweaking food plants or agricultural practices so that crops defend themselves better against herbivores. More broadly, the possibility that plants share information raises intriguing questions about what counts as behavior and communication — and why organisms that compete with one another might also see fit to network their knowledge.
Scientists are also exploring how the messages from these signals might spread.
Read the rest of this incredible article at Quanta