The Light Eaters: How the Unseen World of Plant Intelligence Offers a New Understanding of Life on Earth

by Zoë Schlanger

That also means a plant has evolved remarkable ways to coordinate its body and defend itself. They might grow thorns and spikes and stinging hairs, developed with remarkable precision, to pierce the flesh or exoskeleton of whatever mammal or bug might be its main threat. They might secrete sticky sugar to entice and then immobilize their antagonists, whose hungry mouths get stuck shut. Their flowers might be extra slippery, to deter nectar-thieving ants. Whatever the adaptation, it tends to be economical in its specificity. There’s a purpose to every tiny variation. This is true for all areas of plant physiology; every part of the architecture of a plant’s body is there for a reason, calibrated to fit its task. No more, no less.