As I was pulling the stringy guts out of my pumpkin last night, I felt like it took forever to make a dent in the number of seeds inside. It was a pretty average-sized pumpkin; it just had an above average number of seeds. As I sat there pulling out handful after handful of seeds, this action resurfaced a recent discussion about fall seeds that occurred on a walk with a group of third graders.

We were exploring acorns, chestnuts, and pine cones that had been collected or eaten by squirrels and chipmunks. Eventually, one of the students wanted to look for the helicopter seeds. You know, the ones you toss in the air and then spin around like a helicopter blade as they fall? They do the same thing as they naturally fall from the maple trees, but like many seeds they have a certain time of year they appear. Maples are tricky, because some fall in the spring, while others fall in the autumn. We didn’t find any helicopter seeds that day, but we did find some other seeds that use the wind to give them a helping hand in seed dispersal.

When it comes to fluffy, floating seeds, milkweed seed pods are a prominent example of this. As we enter fall, those green seed pods turn brown and dry out, until they start to crack open. Hiding inside that individual pod is a multitude of flat, brown seeds, each one attached to a white piece of fluff. If you pull just one out and let it go, it will float through the breeze for a while before eventually sticking somewhere or falling to the ground. This mechanism of dispersal is used by several plants, so that their seeds can travel to a new location instead of crowding in one spot, which will hopefully give them a better chance of survival.

Dandelions do the same things when their yellow flowers turn into a fluffy ball. Each of those individual pieces of fluff has a seed attached to it. Early in the summer, Cottonwood catkins are also shedding a fluffy white seed, sometimes flying through the air in such large numbers, it feels like it is snowing.

Milkweed seeds are pictured.

Seeds can be found in myriad forms year-round, but fall seeds are my favorite, possibly because of these flying, floating, and fluffy seeds, and also possibly just because without all of the greenery in the way, they are a more prominent part of the landscape.

It’s also probably a weird statement to say you have a favorite seed, but I think I have two: the chestnuts encased in their spiky coverings, and one that I first learned as either Old Man’s Beard or Goat’s Beard. Officially this seed is from a clematis plant, but when viewed from a certain angle, it does look a bit beard-like.

Clematis seeds mature in the fall, as well. Clematis are often used as a climbing garden plant, but there are also wild species in the US. Like many plants cultivated for their appearance and usage in human-centered spaces, several species have unfortunately escaped their garden confines and are now invasive species in wild areas. Whether they are wild, or intentionally planted as landscaping or a garden plant, most of them have similar seeds. The flowers give way to a grouping of brown seeds in the center, with a drooping, fluffy tail attached to each one. As they mature, those tails become even more feathery, until they fall off and float away. Can you see now how they might easily escape their intended homes and venture out into places they were not intended to be?

Seeds that float and fly are taking advantage of one mechanism of seed dispersal. My pumpkin seeds do not have this luxury. Mine will likely not make it back out into nature, but if they do, pumpkins, like many fruits, rely on being eaten by animals and passing through their digestive system.

Currently, the leaves are getting all of the attention, as they should, but after the leaves ultimately fall to the ground, try shifting the focus of your walks and explorations in nature to another plant part, the seeds. There lies a lot of potential in such a tiny thing, and many of the seeds not only have to survive the cold temperatures before germinating next fall, but actually need the cold to complete their life cycle. With fewer visual obstructions, they become easy to find if you take the time to stop and notice these tiny powerhouses keeping our plant life going and growing each year.

Clematis seeds are pictured.

The Audubon Community Nature Center builds and nurtures connections between people and nature. ACNC is located just east of Route 62 between Warren and Jamestown. The trails are open from dawn to dusk and birds of prey can be viewed anytime the trails are open. The Nature Center is open from 10 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. daily except Sunday when it opens at 1 p.m. More information can be found online at auduboncnc.org or by calling (716) 569-2345.