Sam had tried for 10 years to set seeds using I. dicotoma X Belamcanda chinensis without luck. He was convinced the plants had enough in common to breed based on the physical similarities they shared.

The I. dicotoma was doing poorly and Sam was worried that he might lose it when he managed to obtain starts of Rex Pierce's "Avalon Hybrids". These plants, a cross of a yellow Belamcanda and the orange flowered Belamcanda chinensis, were an improvement over the species with larger blooms and slightly wider color range. With pollen from the new varieties, Sam was able to set seed on the I. dicotoma.

A friend at the Rancho Santa Anna Botanical Garden confirmed for Sam that his cross of I. dicotoma and B. chinensis was genuine. The first generation or two of seedlings often showed strong similarities to the dicotoma but the breed quickly stablilized into the form commonly seen today.

The Pardancanda norrisii, regardless of the fact that they originated from a man-made hybrid, behave in every way like a species.

Three pods from the JI-SIB yielded a few hundred seeds but only a few dozen plants. These seedlings, though sometimes showing undetermined characteristics before bloom, divided themselves into two distinct types. When allowed to bloom untended, both types of the JS seedlings set seeds with abandon. Though each produced varying shapes and sizes of seeds, a high percentage resulted in strong second-generation seedlings. Crosses with either parent or "purebred" plants closely related to the parent types and crosses between both lines were considerably more difficult and I'd noted that only a very few such attempts resulted in pods.

While the currently fashionable thought is that hybrids should cross more easily with such relatives, from the standpoint of evolution, I believe this would defeat any real genetic gains made in the F1s. When dealing with such species hybrids, it is far more natural to expect them to cross with their siblings and distantly related individuals.

The one pod from the 1992 I. cristata X MDB gave 3 seeds. Though all 3 seeds germinated, only 1 plant survived. A second attempt to obtain hybrids was made a couple of years later. This second attempt resulted in 3 pods yielding 5 seeds. There was no germination in the 2nd batch of seeds.

During the time the first iris crosses were made, there was much in the news of cloning and gene splicing as well as the usual new species being discovered and older species being in peril. One timely article on cloning vertebrates included the remark that "The complete genetic code of mature specialized cells, when deprived of nutrients to the point they began to die, became active." This mirrored what I'd seen in my hybrid plants.

Earlier work I'd done using extreme inbreeding under stressful conditions with modern hybrid columbines and corn had produced plants nearly identical to some species forms. All of the irises I'd used as pod parents in the first two types of crosses were under enormous stress and two of the three plants had died shortly after ripening their seeds. In addition, I'd been hearing from established irises hybridizers about problems they'd had trying to obtain crosses if their plants were in less than top condition. Even though most of the irises they'd been working with (Tall Beardeds) were hybrids, these had been in cultivation for so long that most shared some ancestors and as a group behaved as one species. There had also been recent reports of new plant species discovered in places as divergent as California and China. All of this information, viewed holistically, led to some interesting ideas...


If a seed before it is fertilized might also be considered a cell I wondered if in a dying plant whether a similar kind of genetic memory might be triggered in the gamet. Perhaps there were many reasons plants might refuse to cross with their own kind if they were under stress but could it also be that if threatened with extinction they actually preferred to cross to a stronger more distant relative? In such a geologically or climatically dynamic world as ours, why is it such an accepted idea that plants are capable of evolving only by chance mutations or by genetic drift and then always over long periods of time?

The idea that plants might need to adapt quickly in order to survive made perfect sense. What better way than to merge with another related species, especially a stronger one, to give the next generation of seedlings an advantage! What I'd seen in my seedlings suggested that only a few of the best suited plants would thrive or produce such an abundance of seeds that they would easily crowd out the weaker plants in a short time. Could some of these "newly discovered" species actually be new species in their infancy?

In my opinion, species should refer to a group of related individuals who share the same major physical and behavioral traits, have the same number of chromosomes unless increased by unreduced gametes resulting in tetraploidy or polyploidy, show a preference for crossing with their own kind, and allowing for some variations, breed true. Variations of minor traits such as color of leaves or blooms or adaptations to diverse growing conditions should *usually* be considered irrelevant with notably different and consistent traits allowing a related group to be considered a subspecies.

I've noticed a teeny problem with the tendency of most taxonomists to rigidly adhere to the concept of linear evolution by mutation. This might be a less frightening concept for humans than crossing with "others" and I'm certain it makes organizing the different species into neat groups relatively easy but it makes little sense in the real world because it doesn't allow for many advancements. It also doesn't make much sense when you figure that in order for any gene pool to survive, species must rely on just the right mutation at just the right time. It makes much more sense to assume that evolution occurs by hybridization with so called mutations following (I include here any new form that utilizes jumping genes or ancient traits pulled from "junk DNA". I dislike that term, believing that what is thought of as junk is actually an emergeny genetic tool kit.

I stongly suspect that instead of a family "tree" the path of evolution resembles a net in some places with plants (and animals) within families crossing back and forth when the need for quick adaptation arises.


A s more irises were added and grew to blooming size, more crosses were tried. A stand of overly tall psuedacorus was crossed with a dwarf form of Iris fulva and psuedacorus pollen was used on BLACK GAMECOCK, a hybrid LA. All of the plants were under some stress due to wild swings in weather. BG held onto 3 pods but none filled with seeds. The psuedacorus held onto two pods. One matured under the most stressful time for the psuedacorus and contained only 14 seeds. The other pod was from a cross made just as the bud had begun to loosen and was formed just as we received the first good rain in quite some time.

Though there were already numerous crosses of Siberian and Setosa, it was reported that these were almost always sterile. It didn't make sense that such an easily obtained cross wouldn't set seed and I reasoned that most hybridizers would probably try to work with healthy plants. Our weather had stressed most of my Siberians and Setosas to some degree and the idea of miniature Sibtosas was appealing. Since the Siberians and Setosa canadensis were blooming at the same time, I tried a few crosses. A number of these failed to set pods but SKY WINGS produced just over a dozen seedlings. FLIGHT OF BUTTERFLIES was considerably more generous, giving well over 60 nice little seedlings. Just for fun, I tried a reciprocal cross of FOB and canadensis and was rewarded with just under a dozen seedlings.

T he plants I've crossed are, under the right circumstances, too eager and produce fertile offspring too often to believe these wide crosses are a rare occurrence. I certainly don't believe I'm gifted enough to coax a plant into doing the impossible. The current scientific establishment in the iris community believes that species crosses must result in visually obvious hybrids with little to no fertility. While a number of my hybrids have fit this type, I believe that this is a mistake of nature and not the ideal. Such infertile plants are a genetic dead end and would be unlikely to adapt quickly enough to survive cataclysmic changes.

Rather than try to prove any of the negatives (i.e. that species will not cross, etc.), I've focused on trying to learn whether diverse species will cross and under what circumstances. Instead of relying on accepted classifications, I've wagered that plants might still show some features inherited from a common ancestor and that on a good day I'll be perceptive enough to notice.

Since beginning to work with the inter-specific and inter-series crosses (irises as well as other plants) I've begun to believe that evolution is an ongoing ocurrence reached initially by crosses of established species and developed over generations by both mutation and inbreeding of the hybrid types. Whether a natually ocurring species or an "induced" species, my thoughts are that the same rules and possibilities exist for new forms to establish themselves.

While the number of chromsomes do seem to offer clues about the origins of each species, this seems to have little bearing on whether or not a given species cross will work. Fertile F1 hybrids are nearly as likely to ocurr when the pod parent has a count lesser than the pod parent as when the pod parent has the greater number of chromosomes. More important may be how much basic genetic material the plants have in common and how much motivation each has to cross with the other.

I've also come to the conclusion that a good number of species which cross "easily" do so because of an ancestor they had in common before continental drift divided the populations. There simply is no other explanation for the obvious relationship of missouriensis to lactea or the affinity of pseudacorus with so many others. If this is the case, then some species may be considerably more ancient than is currently believed.

A few thoughts about how it all might have begun with the Cambrian Explosion.